At His Mercy
by Evelyn Reid
Summary: She only wants to be recognized by the one man most important to her. The question: which man? The shining captain she's admired for so long? Or the commander she can't quite understand? One is what she wants. One may be what she needs. Spock/OC/Kirk
1. Checkmate

A/N: I just love the new movie. I can't wait for the sequel. This will be hopefully my longest fanfiction. Please review and please be kind. Unnecessary cruelty isn't cool. This is for FUN. Some people need to be reminded of that.

Disclaimer: I'm not making money, I'm just having fun. I don't own Star Trek or any characters affiliated with the movie, multiple TV series, or any other media.

I own Celyn.

Rating subject to change.

* * *

><p>2258 was the year.<p>

Lieutenant Celyn R. Mercy, an operations division officer on the _USS Enterprise _under young Captain Kirk, was having a not so great day.

"May I suggest," growled a low Vulcan voice, "that you observe more carefully what you are doing, Lieutenant."

Correction. A bad day.

"Don't snap at her, Mr. Spock, I'm sure she meant nothing by it." The captain smiled at her briefly, then he looked away from her. There was no recognition in his eyes, and despite his comment, Celyn drooped immediately. Captain Kirk knew everyone on his ship. He made it his place to know his crew, many of them quite personally, but he didn't recognize her.

"She must understand, Captain, that her carelessness at a time like this could jeopardize—"

"I'm sure she understands, Mr. Spock," interrupted Kirk, shooting his XO another quick glance.

Seated uncomfortably between her two higher ups, Celyn sunk down further behind the ice, deflated, and wished again that she were anyplace but here. This wasn't what she had signed up for when she became a tactical officer—she had expected to be firing the ship's phasers and coordinating defense maneuvers, not perched precariously on the icy ledge of a foreign planet, armed with a type two phaser held in her shaking hands while Andorian rebels bent on starting war grouped below.

Face-to-face combat with an enemy was, in her mind at least, vastly different from sitting on the bridge following Captain's orders. For Celyn, it was just another reminder that she didn't fit in with the rest of the _Enterprise _crew. Nearly everyone had stories from the fiasco with Nero a few months earlier, but she, having been preoccupied by scrambling around the engine rooms looking for some way to be useful, had none. She hadn't been a Lieutenant then—she was promoted only at the good word from former captain Christopher Pike and the fact that the previous Operations Lieutenant had been killed two weeks prior.

She, even now, was practically invisible. Two weeks on the bridge, _two weeks_ sitting just in front of the Captain's vision, and her first interaction with him had just now happened when he defended her clumsiness.

You see, the reason Celyn was having a bad day was not just because she was stuck on the precipice of a planet about to be involved in a potential battle. That was only the beginning. She was having a bad day because the phaser had slipped from her trembling hands and, in her hasty attempt to catch it, she had nearly knocked over First Officer Spock. The half-Vulcan's dark eyes had snapped to her immediately, and his first comment was sharp despite his perfectly emotionless expression.

As previously stated, bad day.

"Captain, I believe there is a seventy-nine percent chance that the sentry has just spotted us."

"Seventy-nine is still less than a hundred," Kirk quipped. "Aren't you always talking about how important stealth is? Keep quiet, won't you?"

Nevertheless, he muttered a few quick words into his communicator to the other crew members in the party. A few mere seconds after that, however, it turned out that seventy-nine percent was high enough—the rebels gathered as an alarm rang out amongst them, and then suddenly shots were being fired.

Kirk swore as he and Spock immediately ducked behind the snow. The majority of the shots were coming from the opposite mountain face—a few scarce rebels were evidently positioned there as well in the event of an attack.

"Smarter than we gave them credit for, aren't they?" remarked Kirk to his XO.

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "If you recall, Captain, I warned you of this particular situation and you dismissed it."

Kirk shrugged and amended, "Alright, fine, I admit it."

It was then that the Captain noticed that Lieutenant Mercy was down, a rather large phaser burn on her shoulder.

Correction, again. _Very _bad day.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe," grumbled McCoy, injecting Kirk with another hypospray, "you even took that girl on the mission."<p>

"She's a tactical officer!" Kirk protested adamantly. "A _lieutenant_! How was I supposed to know she'd freeze up like that?"

"She's also young, green around the gills, and scared out of her mind when she leaves the bridge. And clumsy. Hella clumsy. I've had her in here more than once either because she tripped, walked into something, or the trembling got too bad. She's been on the receiving end of many a hypo, Jim."

"To be honest, I didn't recognize her." Jim's cheeks flushed. "I saw her uniform and picked her to go with us."

McCoy looked at his friend incredulously. "Seriously, Jim? She's been sitting at the controls on the bridge for what is it now, a week, two weeks? You didn't even _recognize _her?"

"She has one of those faces?" The weak defense sounded more like a question, as if he didn't really expect Bones to buy it.

"Well, anyway, don't guilt up too badly. She's fine. The Andorian rebel didn't have his weapon turned up or she might be dead. Just no more field missions. She's supposed to be a brilliant strategist, but don't try to hand her a phaser anymore."

Kirk exhaled in relief, nodded, and then looked sheepish. "If Spock comes down here, lie and tell him that I already spoke with her. He wanted to lecture her about the 'irresponsibility of her actions', but I said I'd do it. Last thing she needs when she wakes up is his lovely face telling her she did a terrible job."

* * *

><p>Celyn woke up a couple of hours later, quietly accepting a hypo from the good doctor for pain, but before she could head back to the bridge, McCoy stopped her with a hand on her arm.<p>

She gave him a smile—after all, he was probably the only one on this ship who acknowledged her. She supposed he was the closest thing to a friend she had, and he was surely the only one who gave her the light of day or recognized her skills.

It was true that Admiral Pike had recommended her, but the recommendation was slightly skewed; he had been tremendous friends with her deceased parents, and though she really did excel at military ideals, carrying them out outside of a ship's hull was a bit of a gray area for her. That gaping flaw, aversion to death, and perpetually shaking hands kept many professors at Starfleet Academy from expecting much of her. Without Pike's recommendation, she doubted she would have been promoted past Ensign.

"If that pointy-eared hobgoblin," said McCoy, "starts lecturing you, you tell him that the Captain already talked to you."

She furrowed her brow questioningly.

"Don't question it. The Captain likes to protect his crew as much as he can from the Vulcan's scolding."

The idea that Kirk was protecting her sent a small shot of warmth down her spine. She had long admired Kirk, even before the marvelous adventure that led to his captainship. If only he would acknowledge her, she would be more than happy. She would finally feel deserving.

The whole thing was bordering on hero-worship, and by the time her mind had finished reeling, Dr. McCoy had to give her another hypo before she could return to work—this one to stop her tremors again.

* * *

><p>Bones watched her as she exited his sickbay, bandages thick on her shoulder and a sling restricting its movement. He felt sorry for the poor girl. He knew she was as old as Jim, but she seemed infinitely younger, more immature, more inexperienced, and much, <em>much <em>more scared. He remembered Pike contacting Jim, telling him to take care of her, and he also remembered Jim nodding absently with something completely separate obviously on his mind. It was now obvious that Jim hadn't been listening to the admiral's request, and Bones found himself glad that he had taken it upon himself to do so instead.

She was quite petite and fragile-looking, with a china doll face and large, round baby blue eyes. Her long hair was a very light, pale blonde, which she usually kept secured at the base of her neck with a flat clip. She seemed uncomfortable with her lieutenant title, almost never using it, and she almost flinched when others addressed her as such.

The door whooshed closed behind her, and McCoy sighed. He hadn't missed the weight loss, change of appetite, and lack of social interaction—his observations in the mess had given him plenty of examples. He also hadn't missed the way her face lit up when he mentioned that Jim was trying to protect her. He only hoped things would be different from now on.

* * *

><p>She hadn't even reached the bridge when she came crashing into an unfortunately familiar face.<p>

"Lieutenant Mercy, perhaps you would like to explain why you seem to enjoy being unaware of what you are doing." The half-Vulcan's gaze looked almost narrowed.

"I-I apologize, sir." Her gaze shot to him in a panic and then sank back down. Much safer to look at the floor instead of his cold, calculating eyes.

"It is my understanding that the Captain already spoke with you about your behavior during the mission?"

Celyn nodded, head down.

"Very well. I shall not berate you further on the issue, as I assume you understand where you went wrong."

"Yes, sir." She resisted the urge to bite her lip nervously.

"I see you are heading back to the bridge. No need. You have been relieved and do not need to report back for several more hours. Rest is in your best interest, Lieutenant. The Captain will want you in the best possible state for your shift."

At Spock's last sentence, something wonderful clicked in Celyn's mind. The Captain and his First Officer were friends, weren't they? Or at least on their way to it. And at the very least, they discussed the matter of crew as men in their positions often did. If she could somehow impress the half-Vulcan, or make some sort of positive impression on him, it was sure to pass to Kirk. Not to mention that he obviously respected his XO, and any opinion Spock had was likely to be considered.

The idea of impressing someone so emotionless, however, was nearly impossible and had more than a few drawbacks. After all, Nyota Uhura had been the closest person to Spock that anyone knew of, and merely a month after the Nero incident, the two had parted ways romantically. If he could end it with Uhura, how was someone like Celyn going to break his barrier?

Then she remembered something she'd heard once in the mess.

"Sir? Commander?" she said, looking up just as it appeared Spock was going to walk away. "Permission to…speak freely?"

Spock hesitated and then said, "Granted, Lieutenant."

"You…don't think very highly of me, do you?"

"An inappropriate question, wouldn't you think, Lieutenant?"

"Respectfully, sir, I do not think so." She stepped forward, forcing courage. This was necessary, she told herself. This was _important_. "If indeed your opinion of me is poor, I request to know what I can do to improve it."

She was choosing her words carefully—always best to do with a Vulcan.

"If you truly wish to know, Lieutenant, I find you undeserving of your promotion and do not think you worthy of being left solely in charge of the _Enterprise's _weaponry. True, your lack of opportunity to showcase your skill set—as we have had a remarkably peaceful few weeks in regards to ship-to-ship battles—may have contributed to my opinion, but there is a sixty-two point three percent chance that my assessment is correct regardless. If you wish to improve it, the only way would be to prove your strategic skills are up to par, preferably in a high-stress situation."

Celyn listened to his words and took a slow, deliberate breath. "Perhaps, sir, I can improve it in another way."

She waited for some sign of encouragement, some kind of hint to go on, and only received one raised eyebrow.

_Here we go. Hit or miss. _"I've heard it said that you and the Captain have started playing chess."

"Indeed."

There was silence for a while as again she searched for something to suggest that she continue, and for the second time she found nothing yet plundered on anyway.

"Would you like a new opponent, Commander?"

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Spock had been leaving the bridge himself, shift over for the next several hours, and she accompanied him as he led her silently to his quarters. He observed her only once, as he opened the door, with that one curiously raised eyebrow still up. There was a chess table already set up, the pieces spread across the board as if someone had left in the middle of a game, and when Spock noticed her looking at it, he provided the explanation, "The Captain has an identical set in his quarters. We alternate, and our last game was interrupted. No matter, as I have memorized the layout of the pieces and will replace them when the Captain and I next choose to play."<p>

He rearranged the pieces, and she took the vacant seat opposite him in front of the white set.

"I'm afraid, as Vulcans naturally are more gifted in logic and I have found few humans able to pose much challenge, that there is a seventy-three point two five chance that I will win, and in a short time." He looked at her over clasped fingers.

She sported a weak smile, his low expectation cutting her. "Did you know that sixty-four percent of statistics are made up?"

His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I am not familiar with that figure."

Her hands trembled nervously and she willed them to stop, sure that if she shook while placing her pieces she would make some kind of irrevocable error. "It's a joke."

"I see."

He said nothing more, waiting for her to take her first move. She did so, finger precariously touching the top of her pawn as she contemplated the numerous ways he could counter what she knew would be an obvious attempt for check. Perhaps she could lure him into it…

And so the game began.

* * *

><p>Her shoulder was beginning to throb despite the hypospray. Those few short stabs of pain, however, served to clear her mind, which had fogged considerably upon seeing the trap she'd fallen into. It was not checkmate, not yet, but she could see no way that wouldn't land her there. His bishop was already aimed at her last remaining knight that guarded her king, and if she moved it out of harm's way, her king would be easily accessible. If she left it, it would be taken in the next turn and there would be checkmate. His second bishop and queen blocked the exits, so moving her king was no option. Her bishop, she knew, could take his queen—then, however, he could simply move his rook to take her bishop and put her right back where she was, one piece short.<p>

In the way of his king, she had only two straggling pawns. Though one of those pawns had been useful in an opportunistic taking of his first rook and his sacrifice of one knight, they were now essentially useless.

Two pawns, one knight, two bishops, and her king—her queen had been taken embarrassingly early. Those were the only pieces she had left.

She placed her finger atop her king, prepared to tip it in defeat, when suddenly the solution came to her with the pain, and it was so glaringly obvious that she wondered how he could not have thought of a provision for it. She removed her finger from her king and instead moved to her second bishop, sliding it along the board, worried that if she picked it up to move it, she would shake too badly.

Then she sat back, watching Spock's face carefully, and said quietly, "Check."

* * *

><p>It was not checkmate, by a long shot, but it was remarkably farther than most humans got. It was evident that James T. Kirk was not the only human to challenge the half-Vulcan. He was left scolding himself for not closing the gap she had just slipped her bishop through, but even though this game had lasted 11.3 minutes longer than anticipated, she would not win.<p>

With a quick flick of his wrist and a shift of his queen, it was over. "Check mate."

Lieutenant Mercy stared at the board for a moment, stunned. "But I…I was sure I had…"

"Perhaps you should practice more," he suggested. "At the very least try to keep more of your vital pieces. I would be able to assist, Lieutenant, as I find chess quite enjoyable and your playing style, though unpolished, is…stimulating."

She barely heard him, feeling disappointed in herself and sensing hardly a discernable change in his demeanor towards her, and stood. "Thank you, sir. If you'll excuse me, I believe rest is necessary for me." _And another hypospray. How is it wearing off already?_

She left his quarters, making her way to her own—she decided to forgo the additional hypospray, as her tired mind wouldn't let her. Before she drifted to sleep for a few hours' rest, she thought of Captain Kirk. Then her eyes closed, and she dreamed about being shot.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay, kid?"<p>

Celyn blinked, stirred from her reverie, as the doctor hesitated with the hypo hovering above her skin. "I'm fine, doctor."

He didn't look like he believed her, but he injected her quickly and painlessly—she always wondered why the Captain complained about getting hypos so much—and then stepped back.

"You're all set to go," he said. "Just enough pain medicine in there to get you through your shift on the bridge."

"Thank you," she replied tonelessly, and her voice gave him pause again.

"Really, kid, you sure you're okay? You did just get shot for the first time—"

"It's nothing," she assured him. "I'm just tired."

McCoy squinted at her. "If you're depressed, Mercy, I have a hypo—"

"I don't need medicine, Dr. McCoy." Her response a bit too quick, she calmed herself down a bit before adding, "I just need time to adjust. As you said, first time being shot. It's my understanding that takes a little getting used to."

"It'll be the last time." He nodded confidently. "I already told the Captain not to send you out on any more dangerous missions."

"I appreciate that." _But maybe if I want him to notice me…I'll have to learn how to use a phaser correctly. I'll need to be more prepared for next time. This is my chance._

No longer was she invisible. Captain Kirk had seen her, interacted with her, and now he knew who she was. She was, hopefully and presumably, one step closer to making an impression on his first officer. This was her opportunity.

She would be recognized by the Captain. She would deserve her position. _She would make her parents proud._

And if she failed? Then she never deserved the chance in a first place.

* * *

><p>She was more than a little distracted during her shift. She tried not to let it show, but the bridge was uneventful and slow, and though she kept a weary eye on the ship's shield monitors, her mind was elsewhere. It changed focus several times; from the fuzzy, dull pain, to Captain Kirk, to her chess game with Spock, and then finally to who she could ask for type two phaser training. Or training of any kind, really. They taught the basics in the Academy, and while she'd received a passing grade, her marks were less than desirable.<p>

Her shift passed by in a whirl, and suddenly the solution appeared to her in the form of Hikaru Sulu.

"Lieutenant Sulu," she said as she stood, gathering the confidence so her voice wouldn't stammer. "When is your shift over?"

He looked confused, as she had never spoken to him before, and beside him Pavel Chekov gawked.

"I 'ave never 'eard you speak, Lieutenant," he said.

Ignoring him but with slightly flushed cheeks, Celyn waited for Sulu to respond.

"In an hour or so," he finally said.

"Can you come to my quarters?" She told him the location of her room. "I have a request for you."

She waited for his nod and then smiled genuinely, giving the two men an additional shock, and by the time she entered her quarters, the ship was atwitter.

"I didn't know she talked," murmured Sulu. "She always seemed so deathly shy…"

"I forgot about her getting promoted," admitted a communications officer in the mess. "She doesn't make much of an impact, y'know?"

"Just kind of fades into the background," added another.

"We haven't even needed the ship's weapons lately, it's no wonder we forgot about her—"

McCoy heard all this, sitting at a table with Jim and Scotty, and smiled to himself. He knew how Celyn felt about the fact that she was nearly invisible. _You're certainly not invisible now, kid. _He knew that whatever she had done, however small, to get noticed, it was all only for Jim.

* * *

><p>It had taken quite a few tries to stutter out her request to Sulu when he showed up at her door. A major part of her mind had expected he would simply ignore her. When she told him, however, that she wanted to be a more adept fighter, he told her what she already knew from stories and crew gossip: "I'm more well-versed in hand-to-hand combat and fencing, Lieutenant Mercy."<p>

"T-That's fine," she said. "Teach me. Please."

"You don't seem like the type to want to fight or kill." He eyed her carefully.

"Incapacitate," she said. "Self-defense and…the defense of others."

He agreed, and she expressed her wish that they begin immediately. Impossible, he said, until her shoulder had healed. Before he left, he gave her another sympathetic look and said, "If you want to learn to fight, even for self-defense, you will have to master the confidence and grace of a fighter."

He was referring, obviously, to her track record of clumsiness and stuttering. She promptly turned a bright scarlet and assured him she would be training herself in that as he trained her in martial arts.

* * *

><p>It took a few slow, mind-numbing days for her wound to heal fully. She came into the sick bay for her last check up with Dr. McCoy, something in her eyes giving him pause to ask, "What are you up to?"<p>

She started, her face an expression of guilt. "Nothing—"

"Never thought you'd try flat out lying to me, kid."

Flinching, she relented and said, "I want to be...stronger. Emotionally."

"Not followin'."

"I want to stop shaking and stuttering and—"

"That'll just come with confidence," he said, smiling. "Can't force that."

* * *

><p>In between her three-times weakly training sessions with Sulu and her long, uneventful shifts on the bridge, she practiced chess with the computer. She made casual observations in the mess, occasionally invited by McCoy, when their meals coordinated, to join his table. She tried to open up more, but outside of meals she was firmly focused on her tasks and training. It wasn't much of a change from her regular, but enough to make McCoy suspicious.<p>

During the next month, there were ongoing efforts by the _Enterprise _to stop rebel Andorian forces from killing Aenar in an attempt to provoke the pacifist race into war, or at the very least cause genocide.

Now, they had finally reached the point of negotiations, and at Bones' urging, Jim Kirk had decided to bring an extra person along besides just himself and his first officer. When he informed said XO about the change, he repeated the same thing Bones had said to him.

"Come on, Spock, don't be so grumpy—"

"I am not grumpy, Captain, that is highly illogical—"

"—she'll be plenty helpful. We're not asking her to fight, we're asking her to be present in case of military tactics discussions. She's apparently very gifted in that, it's why Pike suggested her for promotion to Lieutenant."

"Her presence is unnecessary, Captain."

The young woman was, as it turned out, standing directly behind him.

"Respectfully, Commander Spock, I disagree. Please allow this opportunity to prove myself."

"Lieutenant Mercy." He acknowledged her presence by turning and giving a quick nod of his head. "I was merely suggesting you would be wasting time and find yourself very bored."

She didn't respond, but it was clear she wouldn't allow herself to be deterred from accompanying them. The three stepped onto the transport and Scotty beamed them down. Before they entered the Andorian meeting room—the negotiations were to take place between the Andorian elders and the rebels, with Kirk and his XO mediating—Spock paused and said, "You have not requested a game of chess in some time."

Kirk turned, puzzled, and said, "We just played a game yesterday."

"I apologize, Captain, I was speaking to the Lieutenant."

"Is now the appropriate time?" She chanced a look to his eyes and tried a small smile. "If it appeases you, we shall have a game later today."

It did appear as though her suggestion appeased him; there was a subtle shift in the way he held himself, almost a relaxation of his shoulders. Once they entered the negotiation room, the matter was spoken no more of.

* * *

><p>Contrary to Spock's belief, Celyn wasn't remotely bored. She sat, gaze riveted on Kirk, hanging off of every word. He was just marvelous. He was charming and intelligent, smiling widely at the Andorian elders when one of them got a bit too impatient and assuring the alien that everything would be handled so that both parties were content. Spock sat silently at Kirk's right hand, tall and strong and poised but for the most part not speaking, except the occasional logical statement usually accompanied by one of Kirk's witty quips. Negotiations were actually going marvelously well, despite the fact that Andorians held a natural contentment and dislike for both humans and Vulcans. Evidently, Captain Kirk's newborn reputation preceded him, and the elders were able to stomach their discontentment at the faces of their mediators.<p>

Celyn sat beside Spock, closest to the rebels, but stayed quiet so as not to interrupt her captain's flow. An hour into the negotiations, however, the leader of the rebels—angry because of his lost cause—slammed his fist down on the table and said, his antennae flat against his head with rage, "It is bad enough, Akoval, that you have refused to acknowledge the importance of our cause, but tainting our negotiations with a Vulcan and two pink-skins is an insult I can no longer ignore."

Akoval, the head Andorian elder, spoke firmly. "You have made this a Federation matter, Thelin. Captain Kirk and his crew have assisted us in preventing your cause, as you call it. It is only natural that they be present."

"I cannot believe that you can continue, pretending that the Aenar deserve to live on this planet alongside the Andorians—"

"You can't honestly believe that killing them all is the solution."

There was silence in the room as everyone turned to look at the human girl who, with a bright blushing face, resisted the urge to slide down further in her seat.

"Why should they live?" Thelin finally responded. His eyes glared daggers at her.

"They're a pacifist race, provoking them into war wasn't going to work, and by changing your game plan to genocide, you do nothing but create a bad name for your 'cause'." She spoke as though she thought this was obvious. "No one outside of the few rebels you've managed to brainwash will ever believe that what you're trying to do is noble. The Aenar have done nothing to you."

"Lieutenant," spoke Spock sharply while the Captain merely stared. "I suggest now is the time you cease speaking."

"I don't expect you to understand, pink-skin," Thelin hissed. His antennae remained flat, usually taut expression contorted.

"You want them to die because you don't trust them. Because they're different," she whispered, despite the Vulcan First Officer's obvious disapproval. "Because they're weak. You think they're weak because they are peaceful. They think you are weak because you fight instead of handling things diplomatically."

"Lieutenant. I order you to—"

Celyn looked up at Spock, partially afraid and partially firm in her words. "Sir, these negotiations are doomed from the start if they don't respect us—"

"Respect is earned in battle."

And just like that, Celyn felt a knife to her throat. The Andorian rebel leader stood behind her, holding her close, and though all four of the other men in the room were standing, he had been sitting too near to her already for them to have reacted any sooner. Spock's hand was on his phaser, and Kirk had already drawn his, but it didn't matter. Thelin had her positioned so she was shielding him.

"Perhaps," he said, "I have decided negotiation is not what I want after all." He looked to something past Celyn, but Kirk anticipated it and spun to aim his phaser at the leader's right hand man.

"Don't even think about it," the captain said.

"Lieutenant, do not move," said Spock.

She almost didn't get over how stupid that order seemed to her at that moment. Then, however, she realized that she had lucked out—this was another opportunity. So she inhaled slowly, thought once about what Sulu had taught her, and in a whirl of movement in which she caught Thelin luckily off-guard, their roles were reversed.

She elbowed him beneath his ribs first, slipping under the arm that held the knife, drawing her phaser in a smooth, practiced motion. From there, she put him in a headlock with the crook of her left arm, using her outstretched left hand to grip his wrist and bend it back until he was forced to release the knife, and then aimed her phaser at his temple. The whole thing happened slower than Sulu would have done it, and lacking the grace of a master, but it served its purpose in the end—she was out of harm's way, and the rebel leader was now in quite a predicament.

Captain Kirk was staring at her with a gaping jaw, obviously stunned, and who could blame him? Last time he had seen her off of the ship's bridge, she had frozen up in a battle and gotten herself shot immediately. He'd probably been expecting a similar reaction here, and it thrilled her to know she managed to exceed his expectations.

She tensed, betting on getting a fight out of her new captive and knowing that if she did, she should be prepared to release him or get hurt. She wasn't strong enough to hold him if he struggled. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she nearly missed the stinging on her arm and sent an incredulous glance at it. Hm. Apparently her technique still needed work. She had nicked her arm on Thelin's knife in the process of escaping him—had actually nicked it quite badly. Blood was dripping down her arm onto her hostage, and when he saw it, he suddenly relaxed.

"Admirable, human," he mumbled, forgoing the insult. "Maybe negotiations can be reconsidered."

"You will listen and abandon your cause?"

"In exchange for full pardon and amnesty for myself and my men." Thelin looked to Akoval as Celyn released him, pressing her free hand to her arm to stem the bleeding. The trembling had begun again and, as the adrenaline wore off, she felt the sudden urge to cry. "And I want my original military position back."

The terms deemed reasonable, negotiations were ended as Kirk got Scotty on the comm and said, "Beam us up…and have Bones at the ready, Lieutenant Mercy got hurt."

Spock said nothing and refused to look at her, and Celyn could easily gather that he was, in his own Vulcan show-emotion-and-die way, pissed off at her.

* * *

><p>Bones rushed to her first, examining her arm, and then shot an angry look at Jim. "I told you to bring her for her to observe, not for her to get slashed by some white-haired blue-skinned—"<p>

"Dr. McCoy," she interrupted gently, the hand over her wound shaking so badly that she had to drop it down to her side. "Don't worry. It was my own fault, no fault of the captain's. It seems I will need more training."

"Training, Mercy?" He frowned at her.

"Lieutenant Sulu has been training me in martial arts for the better part of a month." She blushed as he wiped blood from her arm. "Will it need stitches?"

"Yes, it will," he replied, giving her a hard glance. "How did you get this at what was supposed to be a peaceful meeting?"

"The rebel leader held a knife to me. In my getting around it, I accidentally cut myself. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." She furrowed her brow, looking concerned that he was upset with her.

"You get sliced and you're sorry for the _inconvenience_," he mumbled. "C'mon, kid, let's go get you patched up."

* * *

><p>Celyn flinched with every tug and pull of the needle as he brought it through her skin. The trembling had increased tenfold.<p>

"I thought you were done getting hurt," he said.

"You said I would no longer be shot," she corrected with a small, forced smile.

He merely grunted. "I have to get some more anesthetic. That should help with the pain." He left, heading towards the back, and left her alone sitting on the edge of a sick bay bed. Nurse Chapel was nowhere to be seen, but then again, she never was when Celyn was here. She always seemed to be suspiciously missing when McCoy treated her.

Celyn scooted back farther on the bed so her legs could swing off the edge, and she took deep, steadying breaths while her fingers and hands convulsed.

_I have to calm down._

She breathed in again, and then began the only thing besides medicine that proved to calm her nerves—she began to quietly sing. She sang as she always did, with eyes closed and voice gentle, the song a lullaby her grandmother had sung for her. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, but as she sang and let the pleasant memories wash over her, she felt her muscles relaxing until she was calm.

She allowed her eyes to open slowly so as not to break her own spell, but the appearance of a certain tall, commanding man caused her to jump and nearly undid her calm. The power of the song over her nerves remained, however, and she was overjoyed to find the twitching did not begin anew.

"Commander Spock," she said, her voice betraying her surprise.

His eyes must have been widened, because as she took in his expression she saw the distinct sign of them returning slightly to normal size, and then he spoke, "Captain Kirk requested I come to check on the progress of your wound and inform him, as he has to fill out a mission report and could not come himself. I see the doctor is taking care of everything."

"Y-yeah, he just went to get something."

"May I ask…what was that song you were just singing?"

"Oh!" She felt heat bloom across her cheeks. "That? A lullaby, that's all, it calms me—"

"Where did you hear it?"

"It's…My grandmother sang it to me when I was little and had trouble sleeping—"

"Where did she hear it?" Spock pressed. He seemed content to pry, but he kept his voice carefully controlled.

"I don't know, sir, why is it important?"

Before he could answer, McCoy reappeared and, upon noticing the first officer, pointed his finger and said, "No. _No_. Step away from my patient. I won't have you harassing her."

"I was merely asking a simple question, Dr. McCoy."

"Don't give me that, I know the kinds of questions you ask and I know how people generally react to those questions, and—"

"I'm alright, doctor," said Celyn softly. She reached out, hesitated, and then placed her hand on his shoulder. "He didn't do anything."

The doctor grunted with a skeptical expression, but his temper faded almost immediately. "If that's the case, I apologize for my hasty conclusion. Look, just let me finish up her arm and then you can get back to your…questions."

Celyn frowned, but McCoy merely bent his head over her injury, applied the anesthetic, and finished her stitches.

"I no longer have questions for the lieutenant," said Spock tonelessly. He turned his eyes to her and added, "I shall be ready at 2100 in my quarters, Lieutenant. If that is acceptable."

She nodded absently, distracted by the needle in her arm, but when the door whooshed closed behind Spock, McCoy asked, "Ready in his quarters for what?"

Blinking, she spoke slowly. "Oh. Right. I promised him a game of chess earlier. He seemed mad at me after the negotiations, though, so I'd just assumed…"

"Apparently he's got a hankering for chess. Plays it with Jim all the time." He gave her a strange look. "You're alright being alone with him in his quarters late at night?"

"Should I not be?" she asked with a frown.

He almost sighed. Her face was so expressive, eyes so open—it was like reading a book with big, bolded letters. "You're young, and female, and naïve, and really not that bad looking. And I know he's half Vulcan, emotional control and all that jazz, but despite being a green-blooded hobgoblin, he's still a man. There's still half of a human in there, with human instincts and human…needs."

The look on her face showed him immediately she was not comprehending right away. He waited, allowing time for it to fully sink in, and then watched a light slowly go off in her brain as she realized what he was implying. Her cheeks turned the bright red he was used to as she looked at the ground with a flummoxed expression, and then finally whispered, "I never thought…"

She wasn't even sure what she was trying to say. 'I never thought it was a possibility'? 'I never thought I was attractive enough for that to happen'? 'I never thought about that'? 'I never thought about _him_'?

The first two were true—she had never considered herself very attractive, and therefore the possibility of anyone liking her had never been a realistic one. The last two were only half true. It wasn't like she'd _never _thought about what it would be like if Spock…After all, what girl on this ship in her right mind hadn't? He was intelligent and good-looking, if a bit of an emotionless jerk sometimes. She had to admit the thought process had crossed her imagination once or twice; little things like, what would it be like if he kissed her, or what would he look like without his shirt? In the end, considering most of her dreams involved the captain, not the first officer, her curiosity had never gone much farther beyond that.

Certainly not to the extent McCoy was suggesting.

Besides…this was _Spock. _He had broken up with _Uhura_, for God's sake! Anyone who gave up a woman so obviously perfect for him was not going to throw himself on a naïve lieutenant during a chess game. She couldn't picture it at all. It just wasn't in his character.

"You probably don't have to worry about it," assured McCoy. "It's Spock after all. Just something to keep in mind, kid."

Celyn thanked him again and left, trying not to seem in too much of a hurry to flee to her room and be left to her private thoughts for the hour or so until 2100.

* * *

><p>Celyn was trying her best to not allow herself to sweat. She tried, with all her might, to focus on the game, the chess pieces, and not to look at the Vulcan seated across from her.<p>

On this particular night, the temperature within Spock's quarters was uncomfortably warm. She could feel the heat, too, radiating from his body, and it wasn't just the temperature that warmed her cheeks—McCoy's earlier comments didn't help anything either.

This game had gone on too long. Her training with the computer had made her a better opponent for Spock, but now she was wishing she wasn't. Her knee bounced and her eyes scanned the board without actually absorbing anything.

"You're uncomfortable," stated Spock suddenly.

"N-No!" she protested in a weak voice. "I'm…I'm waiting for you to make your move."

He raised an eyebrow. "I made my move six point nine minutes ago, Lieutenant."

She blushed more, blindly moving a piece forward, and now both of his eyebrows were raised.

"Is something bothering you, Lieutenant?"

"No." She licked her dry lips. "Why?"

"In the whole of this game, you have made a total of three mistakes, and the average time you contemplated each of your moves is about two point seven six minutes. This leads me to the conclusion, Lieutenant, that this last move does not fit. Have you grown tired of our game?"

She flinched, caught, and said, "I'm sorry. It's…late."

He blinked as if not aware of how long their game had actually run and glanced at his PADD. "I apologize as well. It was not my intention to keep you this late. We can continue at our next encounter."

Celyn stood, fiddling with her hair clip, but relieved. Her legs wobbled beneath her, frazzled nerves mixing with the fact that she'd been sitting for quite some time. She wanted to get out of this stifling heat and to her own room, where she'd strip down to nothing and cool down—

As she turned away from the table to leave, not pushing her chair back enough, her foot caught on the leg of the table and she tumbled forward. A hand grabbed hers, tugging her upright, but at the contact of their skin she gasped aloud as the heat traveled from her fingertips and palms into her bloodstream. It was almost like alcohol, except the effect wasn't numbing—it intensified every nerve ending in her body until she was on fire, electricity under her skin, blazing in her chest—

It was gone with the disappearance of Spock's hand. He released her almost as quickly as they touched, allowing the still off-balance girl to hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. The whole thing had happened in an instant, and Celyn was still reeling from the heat when he said, as emotionless as if nothing had occurred, "Are you alright, Lieutenant?"

She stared up at him from the ground, momentarily at a loss. His hand twitched at his side, as if he had been about to extend his hand to help her up. As it was, she propped herself upright before standing, without any assistance. "Fine," she muttered. "I'm fine."

"Indeed. I shall see you on the bridge tomorrow then, Lieutenant. Goodbye."

He ushered her out the door—_If I didn't know better, I'd say he was actually anxious for me to leave…_—and she made her way back to her room in a kind of daze.

_It must have been nothing, _she thought. _I shouldn't think anymore of it._

But she did, and those thoughts kept her awake for the next four hours, leaving her only an hour-long window for sleep before the next day began and she would have to face the Vulcan again. Celyn wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

Almost against her will, her thoughts slowed and her eyes closed, and she began to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN: Please **review!** I want to know what you think.


	2. The First One

A week passed by in which Celyn felt herself getting increasingly short tempered. In that week, she snapped at a hapless Pavel Chekov and had to excuse herself from the bridge; she lost her focus during her training session with Sulu, and the lieutenant accidentally dislocated her shoulder; and she actually yelled at McCoy in the sick bay before bursting into tears and babbling her apologies while the doctor stared.

She didn't play chess and she avoided Spock—which was difficult to do considering she still wanted to show up somewhere on Kirk's radar.

Then, on the seventh day of her bad temper, the _Enterprise _had to refuel. On Bones' urging once again, Kirk allowed his crew a few hours of shore leave on an agricultural planet while the ship was fueled by the supply station nearby. Celyn soon found it difficult to be in a bad mood once she discovered the planet's large outdoor marketplace. Her eyes lit up immediately, and soon McCoy, her self-proclaimed bodyguard, was struggling to keep up with her.

_This _was why she wanted to travel the universe. _This _was what had originally made her join Starfleet. Oh how she loved the culture of alien races, the languages, the exotic cuisine—

"Why didn't you become a language expert like Uhura? Or study biological sciences?" asked McCoy, watching her.

Her expression faltered and she set down the pink pear-shaped fruit she'd picked up from one of the stands. "I'm no good at languages. My parents…My father was a great military mind, and he trained me in it himself when I was very little. It would be an insult to him if I didn't enter the Operations Division as a tactical officer."

"But you seem to enjoy alien culture so much more. You seem bored by your job. You'd probably be perfect as some kind of ambassador—"

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. Her blue eyes focused on something two stands down. "Oh! Look!" She sped over to the other stand, where there was an array of colorful bottles. "Natural perfumes, dyes, smelling salts…"

Her face, as excited as he'd ever seen her, reminded him of a kid on a candy planet.

"Here, doctor, you ought to be interested in this," she said, holding up a blue and purple bottle closed with a cork. "Completely natural anesthetic." She turned to the seller, smiling widely, and asked, "How much?"

As she dug out the necessary credits from a small velvet bag, McCoy couldn't help returning her beaming smile. "Hey, kid. You don't have to call me doctor."

"What would I call you?"

"Leonard, for starters, as that happens to be my first name."

She frowned slightly, retrieving her new purchase and handing it to him. "Here, I bought it for you. A present."

"What for?" he asked, spluttering.

"For you! Look, it's topical, just like the ones you use already, but it's in its concentrated form. It takes much less to get the same effect of the other stuff." She nudged it at him. "Take it."

He did so, touched, as she bent her head slightly and added, "And it's a thank you…for being kind to me…Leonard."

McCoy's chest swelled slightly, puffed up with pride and the added effect of being appreciated, and then he cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well, c'mon kid. There's more to see, isn't there?"

* * *

><p>By the time McCoy and Celyn had to return to the <em>Enterprise, <em>the lieutenant's mood seemed permanently positive. She had purchased only a few more things—nothing for herself—which included a hand-carved wooden training sword for Lieutenant Sulu, a chess set cut from natural marble, and a vintage, exotic form of liquor.

"Who is this for?" asked McCoy when she purchased the chess set. He examined it closely. "It's nice."

She blushed and bit her lip.

"If it's for the captain, a bit of advice. He'd probably prefer the alcohol." McCoy laughed and she just nodded meekly.

It had always been her intention to give the bottle of liquor to the captain—she knew he liked to drink recreationally when he wasn't on duty, and it had become impossible for him since, as captain, he was always running the risk of being called back to the bridge. It wouldn't do for him to be inebriated. That's why she had also gone back to the perfume and smelling salt stand and gotten a vial of natural medicine that could scrub the alcohol from his system in under a minute.

As for the chess set…she just didn't want to admit that she had bought it while thinking of Commander Spock.

After all, she hardly knew him. There was no reason to be buying him gifts. But the marketplace had been intoxicating, she had been so excited and happy, and the set had screamed out to her that it should belong to the half-Vulcan. She would just deliver it to his quarters and run away—no explanation, no chance of conversation.

"How much did you spend on this stuff, kid?"

"Not that much!" she protested, face hot. "It was so reasonable. Who knows when or if we'll ever get back to that exact planet in the next five years?"

"Did you get that color-changing nail polish you liked?" he asked. "Or how about the perfume?"

"I didn't need those." She smiled. "I never have any reason to be girly. I'm a Starfleet officer. Who cares if I smell like an otherworldly gardenia or if my nails are painted?"

McCoy shrugged at her, and she looked back down at the bottle of liquor. "Do you think he'll like it?" she asked quietly.

"Don't stress so much, kid. I'm sure it'll go over well."

* * *

><p>Celyn was fidgeting slightly, waiting outside of Captain Kirk's quarters—she knew he was here because she'd asked the computer. She shifted from foot to foot, unbelievably nervous, but before she could gather the courage, his door slid open.<p>

"Lieutenant?" He blinked in surprise, looking down at her. "What is it?"

"Oh, um…" she trailed off, struggling for words. _He's going to think I'm some illiterate child…_ "I-I bought this at the marketplace on the planet's surface…I thought you might…"

She held out the bottle as an offering, blushing profusely in her way, and waited for him to say something.

"Hm?" He took the bottle, examining it closely.

"I-It's a local alcoholic drink, supposed to taste very sweet, but it's got about the same alcohol content as Saurian brandy."

The liquid within the bottle was a vibrant pink, and its coloring caused Kirk to crack a smile and say, "Not the manliest looking of drinks, is it?"

"Not really." She tried to relax when she saw his smile and attempted one of her own. "Oh, and…" She pulled the little vial of medicine from her pocket. "Here, this too."

"What's this one for?" He laughed. "Don't tell me it's some kind of super-potent shot of liquor."

"N-No. It's medicine."

"Medicine?"

"There's enough in here to last about the whole bottle, Captain." Celyn reached up to toy with a stray piece of her blonde hair, then dropped her hand just as quickly. "You take just a little drop and it'll get all the alcohol out of your system. No hangover."

"Really?" The captain's young face brightened. "That's great! Thanks, Lieutenant Mercy." Suddenly, his grin turned decidedly suggestive. "Want me to give you a call when I decide to open it?" He threw in a wink, and she thought she might die on the spot.

There were no words in her brain, absolutely no words, just the image of that grin, that wink—

She was saved, oddly enough, by a certain pointy-eared commander. "Captain, there you are. Doctor McCoy expressed a wish to see you. Something about testing out his new…present."

Celyn fought back the urge to giggle as she realized what McCoy would be using her anesthetic for. He was probably going to give Captain Kirk another round of unnecessary hypos, testing and comparing the anesthetic's effectiveness. _I should warn him…_

When she opened her mouth, however, to do just that, the captain had set down the bottle of liquor and had already started walking away. "I'm not his damn guinea pig," he grumbled down the hall. "You'd think he'd start respecting me now that I'm captain."

Spock barely looked at her when he nodded slightly and said, "Lieutenant," as a sort of dismissal.

She watched his retreating back with a pang, and suddenly, she stepped forward and called out, "Commander?"

He stilled, but didn't turn around. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I…Can you…" She cleared her throat, collecting every ounce of confidence the Captain's smile had given her, and said, "Will you accompany me back to my quarters for a moment?" As an afterthought, she added: "Please."

He agreed—reluctantly, it seemed—and when they reached her room she stopped him just outside of the door and stuttered, "W-Wait here."

She ran into her room, grabbing the box containing the chess set and holding it close to her chest. Struggling to regain control of her breathing pattern, she tried and failed to stay calm as she prepared to give a gift to a man who probably hated her.

"Here." She thrust it at him as she exited her quarters.

He took it on impulse, but then looked at it strangely without a word.

"It's a chess set. Marble chess set." When her hands began to shake, she clasped them firmly behind her back. "I don't know if your other set has some kind of sentimental value or if you even take sentimental value into consideration since you've sworn off emotion and all that, but…" She swallowed thickly before continuing, "I thought you might like having a nice set since you seem to enjoy playing. That's…That's all I wanted to…"

Her communicator buzzed to life, Sulu's voice coming through only slightly fuzzy: "Mercy, you're late." She could hear the slight smile in his voice.

"Right, I'm sorry," she answered back, attempting to keep the relief out of her voice. "I'm on my way."

Without another word at the speechless half-Vulcan, she walked hurriedly away.

* * *

><p><em>That was stupid. That was so stupid. Why did I even get him a gift? He hates me. Now I just seem creepy and desperate and it looks like I'm trying to kiss his ass or something…<em>

At the end of her shift, Celyn sprang up and signaled to Sulu. He nodded his understanding, and a short time later, he met her in the training room.

* * *

><p>Celyn tried to duck under Sulu's arm, but he knocked her off-balance and she fell to the ground with him pinning her in a chokehold. He moved his arm off her neck so as not to hurt her, but sighed and said, "You need to learn to focus, Mercy. If you're distracted, I'm just going to keep pinning you."<p>

She gave him an apologetic wince. "I'm sorry, Sulu."

He lifted himself up off of her, offering his hand in preparation for standing and helping her up. "Here, we'll try again."

When he pulled her up, she couldn't find her proper footing, and she fell backwards—taking Sulu down with her. Celyn heard the door just as she opened her mouth to apologize to Sulu, and a familiar voice said, "Oh, so this is why you followed her out after your shift."

"Captain!" Celyn scrambled upright, while Sulu began laughing.

"Don't let me interrupt anything," said Kirk, his smile wide and playful.

"Lieutenant Sulu and I—we were—we aren't—"

"We were just sparring, Captain." Sulu stemmed his laughter and reached down to lift up a red-faced and sputtering Lieutenant Mercy.

"Lieutenant Mercy, relax," Kirk said calmingly. "I'm just joking."

"Right, of course, joking, sir." She bit the inside of her cheek harshly to keep the stream of babbling words from overflowing.

He laughed again, relaxed and at ease, and said something to Sulu that she didn't quite catch. Her mind was elsewhere, and before she ever had a chance to get it back, her captain had already gone. Sulu excused himself from their training session, apologizing and assuring her that they would get back to it later, but she barely heard him either.

She sat down on a bench in the training room, reeling and a bit dizzy, an uncomfortable, tightening nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want that moment to be forever be associated with her image in the Captain's mind, that was true and simple, but why was it this bad? Why was she close to hyperventilating, close to fainting, close to losing herself?

She laid down on the bench slowly, allowing her mind to drift where it wanted, and she just faded into her head. Memories swam before her eyes, and as she tried to calm down, she picked one at random to focus on.

The reason for all this, she supposed vaguely, was because the feeling she got from the captain being so flippantly cheerful, had reminded her of someone else she had once cared about.

* * *

><p><em>Foster care wasn't great, wasn't terrible. It was just so lonely there. She had no one after what had happened, no one at all. The people who took care of her were nice enough, but they didn't pay any more attention to her than they had to. When Grandmother came to get her, she thought it was a saving grace. An end to the loneliness.<em>

_It wasn't._

_It wasn't, because Grandmother couldn't take both of them._

_Her younger sister, Elysia, the better of the two when they were compared, was eight years old. She was beautiful already, clever and energetic, and Celyn knew that. She was so proud of that. She loved her sister. She couldn't relate to her, or talk to her about much, but she still loved her._

_But Grandmother couldn't take both of them._

_Elysia had smiled and held her sister's hand, and had told her to go. Elysia had told Celyn to go. "You deserve to be loved, sis."_

_All the while, Celyn had been hoping, selfishly hoping, that Elysia would say that. That Elysia would give up her happiness so Celyn could be the one Grandmother took home._

_One sister was selfish, shy, average. One sister was perfect._

_The perfect one was left in the foster system. The other got what she deserved._

_She was twelve, spending her days holed up in the little room at her grandparents' house. Her grandmother didn't do much aside from cook her meals and make sure she was clothed, and every time she left her room, her grandfather would find something cruel to say. Celyn didn't really remember how she passed the time for those first four years. She went to school, but that seemed to only fill a small fraction._

_She cried about Elysia and tried to write to her, but she had already switched foster homes and the letter was sent back unopened. The guilt remained, and she yearned for nothing more than a confidant, but her painful shyness and introverted ways prevented any kind of social interaction no matter how badly she craved it._

_Her memories of those years all kind of blended together, up until the day she met him. She was sixteen years old, had never had any real dreams to speak of, but when she saw him, she was overwhelmed by the wish for him to talk to her. Even just once._

_He was a year older than her, cool, suave, charming. He had a smile that lit up a room and a name that melted on your tongue like smooth caramel._

_William Tate._

_He approached her on a cold afternoon, when she had forfeited sitting in her room in favor of perching outside, sitting on the sidewalk and leaning her back against the brick wall not far from her grandparents' house. She was doodling her name absently on the front page of a journal she'd gotten herself. She didn't really feel like writing in it, per se, but she had found five dollars on the street and it had felt good to buy herself something she knew she didn't need, just because she could._

"_Celyn R. Mercy," he repeated, smiling that dazzling smile. "What's the 'R' stand for?"_

_She jumped nearly five feet out of her skin, and she suddenly got tremors in her right hand so badly that she dropped her pencil. "R-Renata. It's my…middle name."_

_Her voice was so very quiet, she was certain he hadn't heard her. In a few minutes he would walk away and that would be the end of it._

_Except that he bent down to pick up her pencil and handed it back to her, seating himself with a slightly awkward plop beside her. "Renata? Celyn Renata. That's an unusual name."_

"_My parents liked…unconventional names." She felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment and stared intently down at the journal, allowing her hair to fall and shield her face like a curtain._

"_Hey now," he said gently, lifting his hand to move her hair back. "Don't hide from me."_

_She shifted away from his hand on reflex, a frightened look on her face that faded into surprise as she touched her cheek where his fingertips had brushed. "W-Why?"_

_His smile only grew and he tilted his head at her when he responded, "You're too pretty to hide. Duh."_

* * *

><p><em>It was such a human thing, to be in love. It came quickly, not creeping up on her the way she read in books. She thought of nothing but his deep green eyes and brilliant smile, his voice when he would address her fondly or speak her name. He became her only friend, and she loved him.<em>

_Her shyness increased tenfold around him. Her face seemed to remain permanently the shade of a cherry tomato. She daydreamed constantly, imagining a world where it was her and Will and no one else. She clung to him like a person starved, and the best part was that he didn't mind._

_A year later, on her seventeenth birthday, he gave her a present and told her he had something serious to talk about. They were sitting against the exact same wall they always did. She tried a smile and opened the present first—a little locket. She gushed over it, stumbling over her words at the sheer beauty of the simple necklace, and he helped her put it on. He had laughed at her nervousness, just as Captain Kirk had done in the training room a few moments ago._

"_S-So, what did you need to tell me?" she asked, avoiding his gaze and attempting to hide her wide smile._

"'_Lyn, look at me," he said._

_She complied. His eyes bored into hers._

"_You know I love you, right?"_

_She swallowed thickly. He had said it to her before, in a joking, friendly way, on several occasions. "Yes, I know."_

"_I mean, I love you."_

"_I-I know, Will."_

"_I really love you," he stressed. "Don't just say you know. Do you understand, Celyn?"_

_She swallowed again and shook her head. Truthfully, she didn't. She hoped, she prayed, she wish oh so hard, but she didn't understand, because she didn't dare assume wrong._

_Will sighed and abandoned that train of thought for a moment. "Celyn, I'm leaving."_

_Her heart stopped, her breath stopped. Everything just stopped. She felt as if she were cemented to the spot._

"_I'm going to Starfleet Academy."_

_She exhaled slowly._

"_I know you said your grandmother was making you go, so we won't be apart for long." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "We'll see each other when you enter the Academy. I just feel like a year is so long."_

_Celyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak._

"_I'll miss you." He held her hand, like he often did, but this time it was gentler. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand._

"_Is it…" She cleared her throat. "Is it dangerous?" It was true she was also going to enlist in Starfleet, but only because her grandmother kept pushing her towards it. Her grandfather often argued, saying Celyn wasn't as strong as her father, and therefore "would make a shit Starfleet officer"._

"_It won't be. Maybe once I graduate."_

_He gave her that serious look from before, and even though she was sitting she felt her knees tremble. When he leaned forward and kissed her, she cried. He loved her, he was leaving, and she wouldn't see him for a year._

_He held her face in his hands as she cried and continued to kiss her. When the tears dripped down her cheeks, he wiped them away and kissed her neck._

"_W-W-When are you leaving?" she sobbed._

"_Tomorrow."_

"_T-Tomorrow!" She cried some more, shaking against him, and he kissed her again._

"_I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I couldn't think of how to do it. I didn't want to see you crying, Celyn. Please don't cry."_

_But she had cried. She had cried the next day, when he left. She forgot to tell him she loved him too._

* * *

><p>Celyn sat up on the bench, the tears running down her face slowly. The only part of that memory that had reminded her of the captain had been Will's laughter, but the memory hadn't stopped there. No matter how much she wished every time that it would. The point remained: Jim Kirk laughed just like William Tate.<p>

"Lieutenant Mercy," came a mildly surprised voice. "Has something upset you?"

Just like that, Celyn snapped fully back to reality. She wasn't a naïve, painfully shy sixteen-year-old girl on Earth anymore. She was a lieutenant aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise. _Will was in the past. He would always be in the past.

"Just thinking about…something." She rubbed quickly at her face. "I apologize, sir."

Spock stepped into the room hesitantly. "I came to thank you for the chess set. While unnecessary, the gesture was…thoughtful. Though I just wanted to make you aware, Lieutenant, that purchasing me gifts is illogical and you need not do it in the future."

Celyn bit her lip. His thank you sure sounded a lot like she was being scolded for getting anything. 'I like it and all, but don't buy me anything anymore.' Drained, she simply nodded.

"I am free for chess," said Spock. "If you'd like."

Will filled her mind again. "No, thank you, sir. I think I'll…rest."

She left the room in a hurry, determined to make it back to her quarters before fresh tears could spill over.

* * *

><p>She was so weak. So unbelievably weak. She was crying over a boy who hadn't been in her life in almost six years. It wasn't the first time she'd cried. She just wanted it to stop. She didn't love him anymore. She remembered loving him, and that wasn't what she felt now. She thought again about the captain's laugh.<p>

_Oh God…_

She changed her course in the hall abruptly. _I need…I need…_

_McCoy. I need to talk to McCoy. I need…_

She pushed the button to open the door and walked in, nearly tripping in her haste. "Doctor—"

"Oh, Lieutenant." Nurse Chapel's mouth flattened into a thin line. "I'm with a patient right now, if you don't mind."

At first, Celyn was struck by the flat tone of Chapel's voice and her obviously displeased expression. Her patient, a yeoman, blinked in surprise as well at the nurse's change.

"Dr. McCoy is out, Lieutenant. If you'll excuse me…"

"Where is he?" Celyn asked desperately.

"I'm not his keeper, Lieutenant," Chapel said. "Try the mess or his quarters."

She stumbled out of the sick bay, knowing she wasn't going to make it before she started to cry. Her eyes stung.

"Leonard," she called, banging on his door. _Please be in here, please be in here…_ "I-I really need to talk…I need…" She sank to the ground, her forehead pressed to the door.

It swished open. "Celyn? You look terrible, what the hell happened? Did someone do something to you?"

"I need to talk to you, please." Her voice cracked pitifully.

"Well for God's sake, come in!"

* * *

><p>She gratefully drank the cup of tea he handed her, tears gone. She felt so very tired, emotionally drained, and just plain embarrassed after explaining everything to McCoy and then crying into her hands for half an hour.<p>

"So, you're in love with Jim."

She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"And you're sure? You don't even really know him."

Celyn seemed surprised by that question. "I…I've been in love before."

"How did you know it was love?" McCoy was watching her carefully as her trembling hands put down her cup.

"I…He made me happy, and I…" She frowned, finding she couldn't answer the question.

"Kid, when you fall in love, you'll know it. That question will be easy. Stop freaking out."

The doctor placed his hand on her knee and said, "The boy, Will, where is he now?"

Celyn licked her lips and said quietly, "He was on the _U.S.S. Hood_ when Nero…"

McCoy backtracked immediately. "Oh, God, kid, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." She wrung her hands together, giving a weak smile. "I stopped loving him about a year before then." _When I saw Jim Kirk… _"And he hadn't spoken to me for longer than that."

Still, McCoy looked like he didn't really believe her, and she still remembered that moment in time very well.

"_Captain!" The ship shook violently, pitching, as Ensign Mercy ran onto the bridge. "There's a problem—"_

_Her voice caught in her throat as she viewed the wreckage of the six Federation ships who had arrived before them. Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling the scream that threatened to erupt as she saw a particular piece of wreckage with the remains of the word 'Hood'._

_No. Will, no. Oh God, Will. You were on the Hood._

"_Ensign Mercy, what is it?" snapped Pike. "Sulu, quit cutting it so close!"_

"_I'm trying, Captain!"_

"_Mercy! What is it? Make it quick!"_

"_The—The—"_

"_Spit it out, Mercy, or get off my bridge!"_

_Her lieutenant came up behind her. "The phasers need to charge, sir, if you plan on firing them. They haven't been tested in this kind of scenario."_

_Sulu avoided another large chunk of debris, and then the Romulan ship came into view. It was the last thing Celyn saw outside of the ship that day—her lieutenant had her escorted out, and she went through the remainder of the Battle of Vulcan in a kind of fog._

But she hadn't loved him then. He had been her friend, but she had given up loving him.

She changed the subject, attempting to lighten the mood. The last few hours of her day seemed so dark, and she didn't want that to continue. She wanted something, anything, to cheer her up.

"Does Nurse Chapel dislike me?"

She frowned at herself. The answer to _that _question certainly wasn't going to cheer her up. Why the hell would she ask that?

McCoy choked on his own tea, coughing a few times before beginning to laugh. "Oh, you really are a kid, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-five, Leonard," she protested, her lips turning up slightly at his laughter.

"Still a kid, kid. Look, Chapel only dislikes you because she thinks you like me." McCoy paused to laugh, lifting a hand and ruffling his hair. "She lectured me just the other day on how 'unfitting' it was for a doctor such as myself to be 'cavorting around with a young thing like her'." He patted her knee. "Don't let it bother you."

But it did bother her. The idea of someone disliking her, even for that reason, made discomfort twist in her stomach. She pushed it onto the backburner for now and said, "I'm such a mess, aren't I?"

He laughed again. "A bit, kid. Nothing a few drinks won't fix."

"I've never really drank before…"

"We won't start now," he assured her. "I was just making a joke." His warm eyes encouraged a slightly larger smile from her. "Feel better, Celyn?"

She nodded just as her comm went off. "Lieutenant, you're needed on the bridge."

Frowning, Celyn responded back in the affirmative and stood, feeling as if she should be giving McCoy a hug. As it was, she smiled again at him and left feeling just a bit lighter. Will was locked away in the back of her mind again, thoughts of her job and her captain—and even the first officer—front and center. She came onto the bridge, taking her seat, and was greeted by the sight of a large green and grey planet she had never seen before.

"Uncharted planet," Kirk was muttering to himself excitedly. "My first uncharted planet as captain. Ha!"

Celyn stared at it, her breath gone from her chest, as she was nearly overcome with curiosity. She knew it would be too much to hope that the Captain would allow her to beam down, but God how she hoped he would.

She only hoped he would.

* * *

><p>AN: not sure how much people notice the little nuances, so i'll just explain..she likes giving gifts because she likes making purchases (since she couldn't when she was living with her grandparents) but she doesn't like buying things for herself. it makes her feel selfish.

anywho. please **review**. please and thank you.


	3. Altered State of Mind

A/N: okay, battles are hard to do...i did my research, but there isn't a terrible amount of knowledge on this particular situation. i tried. don't hurt me if it's not one-hundred percent accurate. at least see what i was trying to do. don't crucify me.

* * *

><p>He didn't. She contained her disappointment when the party sent down to the Class M planet consisted of the captain, his first officer, Sulu, and McCoy—his eyes skimmed over her, pausing briefly, but evidently he decided against it. McCoy had thrown her a sympathetic look but had said nothing, figuring she'd had enough adventures for now.<p>

She hadn't. He promised to give a detailed retelling, but it hardly appeased her. Her curiosity burned through her skin, and now as she sat in her seat on the bridge, she was bored and agitated. She bounced her knee a few times until she actually began to annoy herself. She debated striking up a conversation with Pavel Chekov, giving some confidence a try and practicing for the captain, but the young boy was so hard to understand sometimes…

"I wonder what ze planet is like," said Chekov. The young kid smiled at her, attempting conversation.

"I bet it's fascinating," she murmured in response.

Evidently her comment had not been what he was expecting, and he didn't say anything for a long while, staring at her. Then, finally, his smile returned. "I bet it is. New planets usually are, aren't zey?"

* * *

><p>McCoy took in his surroundings. The planet was a balance of lush green forests and small grouped cities that floated, somehow, a few feet off the ground. The inhabitants varied slightly, as with all species, but the main race of intelligent beings were humanoid creatures with large eyes and skin the color of burnt sienna. They called themselves the Piore—they spoke little Standard, with their native language sounding like a combination of French and Vulcan.<p>

Their guide was leading them into a large, architecturally beautiful building so that Jim's request to meet with the colony's leader could be honored.

"Celyn would be loving this," McCoy muttered.

"Hm?" asked Jim curiously, turning slightly to his friend as they walked. "Why's that?"

"She loves the cultural aspect of other races." McCoy grinned widely, chuckling at the memory. "You should have seen her light up at that marketplace on the last planet. Never seen a girl that excited. She didn't buy anything for herself either, just presents for the rest of us."

Jim blinked once, twice. "Really? She's that selfless?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause, and then he said, "What the _hell _is she doing in Starfleet?"

* * *

><p>When she was relieved, Celyn headed back to her room with a heavy step. She reached into the drawer of her bedside table and took out the journal—its pages yellowed, its cover faded, the name on the inside written with pencil that had rubbed away over the years. Two dozen folded letters were placed in the middle of the pages, but she had never written in the actual journal yet. Now, she took a pen and rewrote her name on the inside cover: Celyn Renata Mercy.<p>

She wrote it slowly, feeling the pen glide over the paper, her looped handwriting so different from before. Then she turned to the first page and began:

_Dear Elysia,_

_I've been writing you letters. I'm including them, along with this journal. If you have received this, it means the Federation did as I requested, and they have found you. It also means I've died. I joined Starfleet, you know, just like Dad. _

_I guess I should start this out by saying that I've regretted ever letting you stay in foster care. I was your older sister. I should have protected you. You should have been the one to go with Grandmother. I can only hope you were happier with another family than I was with our grandparents. I never was the strong one of us, never was like Dad, and Grandfather never let me forget it. I think he would have loved you._

_I've been a disappointment, Elysia. I've tried so hard to be like you. I was selfish as a little girl. You never were. I tried to be you. I think of you often, think of what you would do in my position, and that guides me. It doesn't matter that you were only eight when we parted. You were so much more mature than I._

_This is my apology to you, dear sister. If you'll allow it, this journal is my retelling of my time on the U.S.S. Enterprise. You always loved stories. I promise to be truthful, to tell you everything, and include every shameful detail that is the person I have become._

_I've tried to be less selfish. It comes more naturally now, after years of practice. I'm still painfully shy. I still stutter. In a lot of ways, I haven't changed. I hope you don't hate me for that._

_The only thing that makes me feel better is the fact that I have earned a friend. A real friend, Elysia. His name is Leonard McCoy._

_There is another man, too. He is my captain. I am not proud of this, Elysia, but I think, if I ever knew what love was, that I am in love with Jim Kirk._

_And then, of course, there is his first officer, Spock, who I have every reason to think looks down upon my very being…_

* * *

><p>She was still writing an hour later when she was called back to the bridge by an urgent-sounding Chekov.<p>

Celyn ran back, worried, and her worry was justified when she slid into her seat and immediately saw what the problem was.

"Warbirds," she gasped. "Klingon Warbirds."

* * *

><p>Kirk tried not to tap his fingers on the table. There was one of the alien race who spoke enough Standard to translate their leader's words, but he—Kirk assumed it was a he—was still difficult to understand. His anxious agitation was growing, but he pushed it down. He was a captain, after all. Captain.<p>

His comm went off and Spock shot him a disapproving glance as Lieutenant Mercy's voice came through it. "Captain? C-Captain, a word?"

Kirk excused himself, stepped out of the room, and replied, "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Sir!" Her voice sounded panicked. "We've got K-Klingon ships, sir!"

"What?" he demanded. "Are you sure?"

"Y-Yes sir, three Klingon Warbirds, just on the edges of the ship's scanner. They haven't spotted us yet—"

"Mercy!" called Chekov suddenly. His voice was barely audible in the comm, but Kirk heard it all the same. "Zey 'ave changed zeir course!"

"Correction, sir," she said weakly. "They've spotted us."

"Activate shields—"

"A-Already done, sir." She waited a beat, collecting herself, and then added, "Should I attempt contact, sir?"

"No," he said. "Lower the shields in exactly three minutes. We'll beam up to the ship and I'll try to make contact myself."

"Sir!" shouted the Russian Ensign. "Zey 'ave locked weapons!"

_Already? _Mercy shot a panicked look at Chekov. _What do I do, what do I do?_

"I'll be right there!" said Kirk hurriedly, running back into the room.

He tried to keep his face composed as he tapped Spock on the shoulder and dismissed himself and his men. He promised they would meet again at a later point—after all, this was huge for the Federation. He had already received confirmation that he should do his best to align this uncharted planet with the Federation if it contained intelligent life.

But first, the matter of Klingon ships out here, locking weapons on _his ship _without any warning or prompting.

"Scotty, beam us up," he said, exactly three minutes later, into his comm.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, while Kirk had been retrieving the away team, the first of the Klingon ships had fired. The photon torpedo didn't damage the <em>Enterprise's <em>shields too badly, but it shook the ship.

Inexplicably, Chekov looked to her.

She shook her head, eyes wide. What was she supposed to do? She wasn't the captain. She had no experience as a leader. She _followed _orders, she didn't give them. She didn't know how to give them.

Hands shaking, she activated her comm and said, "Lieutenant S-Scott, can you transport the Captain with the shields still raised?"

Scotty's answer was interrupted by another direct hit from a photon torpedo, but she had a sinking feeling the answer was no. Celyn felt tears prick the back of her eyes.

"Lieutenant," said Kirk out of her comm. "What's happening? Why aren't we beaming up?"

"I can't, Captain, it's too dangerous right now—"

"Dangerous? Mercy, what's going—"

There was another explosion. The shields had fallen to just above fifty percent, and now two of the three ships were firing. The other officers, ensigns, were looking to her just like Chekov, and suddenly it occurred to her that on this bridge she was the highest ranking officer besides Uhura. That's why they were looking to her. Uhura, for some reason, was also staring at her. Celyn silently wished the other woman would step forward.

She wanted the captain back, but…It was safer for him on the planet. Safer for everyone who mattered to her—Sulu, McCoy—if they were not on this ship. She knew it was irrational, he was the captain and would be involved in numerous situations just as dangerous as this and there was no way she could protect him from it. But for some reason this time, she was convinced that if he came aboard the ship, he would be killed.

"The Warbirds are firing on us, sir," she said, her voice cracking. "I think it's better if you don't come aboard."

"What? Mercy, I'm the captain! I order you—"

"I-I'm sorry, Captain." She licked her lips. "Sulu and Leonard are my friends, and I care too much about them…" _And you… _"…to allow you to b-beam aboard under these circumstances."

She cursed her insufferable stutter. Instead of receiving an answer from her Captain, Spock's always-logical voice came to her next.

"Lieutenant, you are breaching protocol."

Her face burned. "C-Commander Spock…"

"We are beaming up. You have no authority over Lieutenant Commander Scott," said the half-Vulcan. "You cannot tell him not to allow us aboard."

He was right. She opened her mouth as another torpedo made contact, and despite the shields still being up, there was an explosion somewhere on the ship.

"Lieutenant, ze engine 'as been hit—"

"They were aiming for it," she breathed. Her eyes widened in the realization. The Klingons had been planning this. They were taking advantage of the fact that she was sitting around, not reacting. "What about the transporters?"

"Zey are not functioning, ze shields are still up, Lieutenant Scott does not 'ave ze time to figure out a way to get around zat. We cannot beam zem aboard until we lower ze shields."

She couldn't do that. Not when they were taking hits like this. If she lowered the shields, even just long enough for a transport, the ship could sustain substantial damage, especially if the third ship were to start firing as well—

"What should we do?"

She felt her whole body freeze up, muscles tense. She didn't know what to do. Why were they depending on her? She couldn't run the ship. She needed the Captain's guidance—

"Kid!" said McCoy over her communicator.

"Leonard," she said. She bit the inside of her cheek harshly. "Leonard, I don't…I don't know…"

"Relax, kid. Pretend the captain's with you."

"Bones? How is that—"

"Quiet, Jim. Focus, Celyn."

Another direct hit. Celyn felt like crying.

"For God's sake!" shouted Uhura. "We're getting pummeled!"

"The captain's there with you, Celyn. He's right there, in the chair. You know what to do."

Celyn's head swam from the voices, and she shut her eyes harshly. Her voice rang out, weak but there, and she almost didn't recognize it. "Ensign Chekov, take the controls."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"S-Steer us away from their fire."

"Keep the channel on, kid," said McCoy reassuringly. "You can do this."

"This isn't a test at the Academy, Bones, if she doesn't know what she's doing she needs to let us beam up—"

"I agree with the Captain, doctor."

"Hey," placated Sulu's voice. "It's not her fault anymore, remember, the transporters can't take us up until it's safe to lower the shields."

"She should have let us beam up earlier!" shouted Kirk.

Celyn squeezed her blue eyes shut further. "Shut up! Just shut up!"

Surprised, the three male voices stopped. She cleared her throat loudly and grasped onto her chair to stem the trembling of her hands. "Lieutenant Uhura…can you…can you try to contact the Klingon ships? Maybe this is some kind of misunderstanding."

When the lieutenant hesitated, Celyn sighed, biting back tears again. "Please. I know you don't have to listen to me, but…please."

Uhura slowly nodded, doing as she said.

"You're doing fine, kid," McCoy began again. "What are the shields down to?"

"Thirty-five percent," she replied feebly.

"Okay. That's okay."

"Okay? That's not 'okay'—"

"Jim," said McCoy in a warning tone. "Celyn, you know what to do. You're gifted in military tactics—"

"When I have a leader, Leonard," she protested. "I'm good when I know that should I fail there is someone to help me. I'm on my own, Leonard."

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Don't worry about that, kid. You have a choice now. Divert power to the shields or fire?"

Celyn shot a look to Uhura, waiting. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't even focus on anything outside of the mass of voices that were all directed at her. How did McCoy expect her to focus? "T-The Klingons haven't responded—"

"You're getting destroyed, kid, don't think about protocol, think about surviving."

So she did. And suddenly, she thought of not just the captain. She thought of Spock.

"_If you wish to improve it, the only way would be to prove your strategic skills are up to par, preferably in a high-stress situation."_

_High-stress situation._

She activated the ship's weapons. She didn't trust her voice, knowing it would continue to give away just how nervous she was—if her shaking hands didn't do that already. She fired the ship's phasers at the nearest Klingon Warbird, weakening it's shield, and fired the _Enterprise_'s own torpedoes at the second. After a moment's hesitation, she opted not to fire on the third—they had not yet fired upon her.

It turned out to be a good decision as Uhura suddenly said, "We're receiving a transmission from the third Klingon vessel."

The face of a Klingon appeared, large and visible, and he said, wasting no formalities, "Where is your captain?"

Celyn swallowed again as Chekov swiveled his head to her and waited for her answer.

"He is detained," answered Uhura.

Celyn let out a short sigh of relief.

The Klingon captain narrowed his eyes. "While I understand you are a Federation ship and as a Klingon I despise the Federation and its methods, I do not agree with the decision to attack you unprovoked and without warning. I will not be participating in this fight as I have no desire to spark a war. My brethren will not be swayed, however, so feel no worry should you manage to defeat them."

The transmission ended there, and except for aiming the phasers again at the first ship, the crew was momentarily stunned.

"Kid? Kid, what the hell just happened?"

"One of the Klingon captains," Celyn replied softly, "just gave us permission to destroy the other two."

There was a moment of silence on McCoy's end, and then he abruptly burst out with, "Then what the hell are you waitin' for!"

She supposed he was right and fired again. The first Klingon ship exploded, and Celyn felt a wave of triumph flow in her chest. She erupted into a strange kind of smile, suddenly giddy, and just like that she was alright.

"Chekov, can you loop us around while avoiding enemy fire?"

"Of course, Lieutenant." He did just that, and she used the photon torpedoes again to weaken the second ship's shields even more, but they were still not down. It made her slightly uneasy also, to know the only thing standing between the _Enterprise _and photon damage was a meager thirty-five percent shield power.

She diverted power from the phasers to the shields, and just in time as the _Enterprise _received a direct hit that Chekov could not avoid.

"If our engines take much more damage, we won't be able to achieve warp," shouted Uhura.

Uhura's words caused Celyn to fumble with the controls, firing the torpedoes and nearly missing. The Warbird's shields had dropped completely, and a few solid hits would send it packing just like the first one.

_Fire. _Again. _Fire_.

There it was. The second Klingon vessel exploded into a fireball. The third warped away without further communication, and Celyn stopped to take a steady breath. Not her best work—'gifted' had been an exaggeration on McCoy's part—but she had a new sense of pride. She had done it, without the captain—_for _the captain.

She hesitated just a moment and dropped the shields, standing with shaking limbs to walk to the transporter room and await her captain. Pavel Chekov shot her a large smile on her way out, but she hadn't the energy to return it.

She stood beside Scotty on legs of jelly, and when the returning four men appeared on the transformer, she avoided looking at the captain. Instead, her eyes went first to Spock, and the look on his face seemed oddly similar to disappointment, and she dropped her eyes with a pang.

"Of all the times to come through for me, kid, you picked a great one." McCoy was the first to address her, colliding with her in a firm hug. Caught off guard, she hardly had the time to return it before he had pulled away and clapped his hand on her shoulder. He smiled before adding, "Really, kid, nice job."

Nice job? Had she done a nice job?

Sulu nodded his consent. "For someone who doesn't work well under pressure, the ship's still intact. That's pretty good, I'd say."

"Well," began Kirk a little grouchily. "I suppose I can't be mad considering my ship _is _in one piece and not too badly damaged…and no one died, after all. I guess the damage would've been worse if you'd dropped the shields to let us up." He grunted. "As long as you don't pull a stunt like that anytime soon, I'm okay."

He took in her expression and winced. "Oh, God, anyone looking at you right now would think I'd just killed your dog. Don't look like that. I'm not scolding you, you're not in trouble. Just relax okay?"

McCoy gave him a look, and Kirk added gently, "They're right. You should be proud that it turned out this way. Nobody got hurt, the ship is relatively unscathed, and now you've got two destroyed Klingon Warbirds to add to your resume."

She felt a swelling of joy at his words, even so much so as to brave a smile, but Spock breezed past her as if she didn't even exist, and a few pieces of that joy broke off and turned to lead.

* * *

><p>It took a few days for things to feel 'back to normal' for Celyn. Coming down from the fear and the worry had caused tremors like you wouldn't believe. McCoy gave her sympathetic winces and regular doses of medication, and she tried to act as though the medicine helped.<p>

It didn't.

Only when she sang to herself did her nerves relax—it reminded her of the only time she'd been happy as a child, when her grandmother would come into her room after she'd had a nightmare. Grandmother would stroke her hair and sing, and Celyn would feel as though the old woman cared. A rare event that had ceased occurring altogether when she turned fourteen.

She thought once about Spock's reaction to hearing the song. She saw him looking at her when she had to hum it quietly in the mess—if she hadn't, she feared her tray would have fallen and made a mess of her food. She was tempted to ask of the song's significance, but approaching the half-Vulcan—who had somehow, at some point reached a place of esteem in her mind almost equal to her captain—seemed unwise and quite frankly, impossible after the Klingon incident.

She wasn't kept informed of the status of the meetings that the captain was constantly going to on the planet's surface. She found she didn't much care to know. She cared much more about the architecture, the plant life, their customs, and McCoy filled her in when he could. Often, however, he was sent to accompany Kirk, with Spock left in charge of the ship.

One night, nearly four days after the Klingon battle, Celyn found she couldn't sleep. Her eyes refused to close and so, with a sigh, she sat up. Writing in her journal proved pointless—she stared at the page for nearly a half hour without actually writing anything. Donning her more casual uniform, a short-sleeved outfit like the one Uhura wore, minus the black undershirt, but still with the short skirt she hated—at least the long-sleeved one made her feel more covered—she headed out for a walk around the ship.

She could jog, get some exercise. She could head to the training room for a light workout. Either of those options would be ideal for tiring her to the point where she could sleep.

She headed that way, singing her lullaby quietly as she had become accustomed to doing. She thought of what McCoy had last said to her, just before beaming down with the captain for what seemed like the millionth time.

"_You're improving."_

"_I'm not improving. I froze. I almost cried. You had to talk me through it."_

"_So?" he scoffed. "Two months ago, you would've run away. You would have waited for Uhura to take over or curled in the fetal position. I call that improvement, kid."_

"_What does the captain call it?" she asked quietly._

McCoy had never had a chance to answer that, and the question remained. How did the captain view her now?

She had wondered for a while what Spock had thought of it, but the answer to that was much more obvious. He thought she was reckless and stupid and altogether unworthy of his good opinion. She didn't need to be a genius to see that.

So when he rounded the corner, her first instinct was to turn and run. She slowed, preparing to do just that, when his eyes found her and she was caught. She couldn't rightly turn around now; he would see it and know what she was doing. She was a lot of things, but she couldn't be outright rude.

"C-Commander," she said, not allowing her voice above a whisper. She bowed her head slightly.

"You were singing that song again," he observed tonelessly.

"Y-Yes, sir…"

"Come with me for a moment, would you, Lieutenant?"

She hesitated, but he didn't wait for her answer, choosing instead to simply begin walking. Her resolve crumbled and she followed, walking quickly to keep up with his long-legged strides. He invited her into his quarters, and directed her to sit in an armchair, which she did. He retrieved something from the foot of his bed and in the dim light she saw it to be an instrument of some kind.

"Vulcan lute," he said to her. "I have been practicing for some time."

Again, as it was last time, the heat in the Vulcan's quarters was astounding. Celyn found herself grateful she was wearing short sleeves and no undershirt.

Then, the half-Vulcan began to play, and the breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Her chest tightened. He was playing the lullaby.

The music invaded every corner of her mind, soothing her to such an extent that she wondered if her hands would ever tremble again. She felt whole, content, and when the music stopped and the feeling was ripped away, her entire being felt empty.

"You recognize the tune, I assume," said Spock, apparently unaware of how the music had affected her.

She felt warm wetness trailing down her cheeks and touched her face in surprise. He had to have noticed that she was weeping. She hadn't noticed, but he was staring directly at her. She wasn't sad, just…empty. She wanted the happy feeling back.

"I-It's my lullaby," she replied shakily.

"I learned the same lullaby from my mother. She never sang the words, but she would hum it. Where did you learn it?"

"I told you." Celyn licked her lips. "My grandmother sang it when I had trouble sleeping."

"Did she ever tell you where she learned it?"

She shook her head and he nodded his understanding, but she had the strange sense that she had disappointed him again.

"You played it beautifully," she said. "My singing doesn't do it justice."

"On the contrary."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he never did. "Would you like to learn the words, Commander?"

At first, Celyn thought he was going to agree. Then he stood, putting the lute away, and said, "It's late, isn't it, Lieutenant? I'm sure you have a desire to go to bed."

"Don't put it away," she said quickly, her eyes lingering on the lute. "Play it again for me…please…"

His hand lingered on it, and when she felt like he was going to decline, she began to sing.

She had never sung for an audience, and never very loudly, and so for the first few notes she was slightly sharp. Her voice wobbled, but then he began to play along as she had requested, and the feeling of wholeness, of belonging, returned with a vengeance.

The words were of no consequence to her, just the music and the sound. When the song was over, she wished it back. This time, however, the euphoria stayed, and she was in a wonderful, sleepy dream state.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

His words were lost, however, as the lieutenant had fallen asleep in her chair.

* * *

><p>The next day, Celyn was too embarrassed to face the first officer again. She hung around the sick bay, trailing behind McCoy but barely speaking, and when he beamed down for what he promised was the last time, she hid in her room or on the bridge until he returned.<p>

As she exited her room upon receiving news of his return, however, she found a little wrapped parcel sitting outside her door. Frowning, she picked it up gingerly and removed the green ribbon and thin layer of white tissue paper. Green was her favorite color. Was it a coincidence or, God forbid, did she have some kind of admirer?

_Oh my…_

It was a small, decorative bottle, in which she knew was the gardenia perfume she'd seen and fallen in love with on the agriculture planet. She looked down the hallway, saw no one, and sprayed a little of it on herself.

_Leonard, _she thought. _He must have gone back for it at some point before we left._

She would have to thank him when she saw him.

* * *

><p>"Guess what I brought!" exclaimed a widely-smiling McCoy.<p>

She returned his smile. "What?"

"Ta-da!" He held up a small bowl of assorted exotic fruits. "They had orchards, you woulda just loved it, kid, and they gave Jim some samples. He said he didn't need all of them, so…" He brandished the bowl at her again. "Eh? Happy?"

As she took the bowl gratefully, he inhaled through his nose and said, "New perfume, kid?"

She frowned. "The gardenia perfume. You know."

"No, I don't know," he said, chuckling. "I was under the impression you hadn't bought it. Glad you did, it smells nice."

"But…I didn't buy it."

There was a pause. "Not followin'."

"It was left outside my door, I thought…"

McCoy laughed boisterously. "Wasn't me, kid. I swear."

* * *

><p>She examined the fruit with a content smile—there was an apple-shaped one that was a bright purple, a bunch of cherries that smelled similar to peaches, and an oblong red one that didn't really remind her of anything.<p>

Celyn cut that one first, slicing it in the middle. It was a lighter shade of red on the inside, dotted with a few black seeds and split into sections like a grapefruit. She cut one of the sections out, looked at it cautiously, and then shrugged. She popped it into her mouth.

* * *

><p>"How was I supposed to know I'd be allergic to some weird space fruit?" grumbled Jim, raking his eyes again over the deep red splotches on his arms.<p>

"Maybe you should have let me scan it before you ate it," countered McCoy. "Honestly, Jim."

The door opened, just as McCoy gave Jim a jabbed hypospray.

"Damn it, Bones—" Jim's angry voice stopped abruptly, and McCoy moved his head to see what Jim was staring at.

Celyn stood in the doorway wearing a modified Starfleet uniform; the skirt and sleeves were both shorter, a low scooped neckline, and the skirt was pleated. She was leaning against the doorway, one arm raised above her head in a provocative position, with a smile on her face that was decidedly _not _like her. Not like her at all.

"Hello, doctor," she said, still with that uncharacteristic smile. It was particularly…suggestive. "Captain."

McCoy snuck a glance at his friend. Jim—being _Jim_, and the playful flirt and harmless womanizer that he was—was staring at her legs with a dumbfounded expression.

"Celyn," said McCoy, knowing nothing intelligent was going to come from Jim's mouth for a while, "what the hell are you wearing? Where did you get that?"

"You like? I altered an old uniform. The computer had to walk me through it, but I think it turned out alright." She pushed off from the doorframe and stepped forward.

"Seriously, Celyn, why're you acting like this?"

She pouted. "Celyn is such an ugly name, isn't it? Did you know it's a boy's name? Ugh. Why couldn't my parents make 'Renata' my first name? It's much prettier."

"Okay, if your goal was to freak me out, you're doing a good job." McCoy elbowed Kirk in the ribs. "Jesus, Jim, quit drooling."

Jim promptly closed his mouth and stammered out, "Oh, uh, I wasn't _drooling_, Bones, I was just…" He adopted a smirk, looking at her again. "Appreciating the merchandise."

McCoy waited for Celyn to blush and get uncomfortable by the captain's comment. Instead, she giggled girlishly and said, "Not looking too bad yourself. _Sir_."

The 'sir' was only added to be flirtatious. Now it was McCoy's turn for his jaw to drop, and he uttered another, "What the hell, kid?"

* * *

><p>Whatever had happened, Celyn was a different woman. She exuded confidence, and before long, she was the talk of the ship.<p>

She even went so far as to confront Uhura when Nyota had said, "You have no authority over me. I just wanted to make sure you were clear in case the Klingon battle confused you."

"I know, sweetie," Celyn had replied. "I was never confused. I knew perfectly well that you were too scared to take command."

It continued like that the entire day. She made an enemy out of the women on the ship and was curiously friendly with the men. McCoy decided that this had to stop, and if she wouldn't do it voluntarily, something was wrong.

He approached her about it, pulling Jim away from her as they talked in the hallway.

"Look, kid, I don't know what is going on with you—"

"I'm just having fun, Leonard—"

"—but you need to calm down and go back to normal."

She adopted the pout that had become her new trademark in the past few hours. "Who wants to be normal? I was no fun when I was normal."

"I don't care, I want normal Celyn back right now."

Celyn straightened her shoulders and said, "No. I like being this way."

"If you don't voluntarily stop, I'm going to have to force you to leave the ship."

He gave her a serious look to know he meant it. Her blue eyes widened. "You wouldn't. You can't!"

"I'm Chief Medical Officer. One word from me and you're on shore leave until you return to normal."

"But—"

He knew what she was thinking. It would mean she was away from the captain. "I will, Celyn. Don't test me."

"I'm not going to change, Leonard." She smiled and repeated, "I like being this way."

"Celyn—"

"No. I'm finally the way I've always wanted to be. The Captain is paying attention to me." Her smile turned wistful, eyes flashing. "I'm not changing."

"When you finally return to normal, Celyn, you'll be embarrassed that you ever acted like this. This is for your own good."

She didn't realize the precise meaning of his words until, four hours later, the _Enterprise _dropped her off on Risa.

* * *

><p>AN: before you say 'wtf, random personality change' it's not random. it's actually very in-your-face obvious as to why she has changed. and whoops, lookie there, McCoy is having none of it. lol.

please **review **and thank you in advance.


	4. On Suraya Bay

A/N: this is a tad shorter. and her 'condition' was meant to be a mini-arc. there will be several smaller events such as that, little adventures, so that it's similar in a way to the shows.

* * *

><p>McCoy didn't feel particularly good about this, but he figured it was better than the alternative. It wasn't like she was going to <em>hate <em>being on a pleasure planet. And he certainly didn't want to keep her on the ship—or anywhere near Jim for that matter, especially with the looks the captain had recently been giving her. McCoy knew that _that _kind of attention was not what the girl wanted from the captain, regardless of her strange behavior, and if he had allowed it to continue there would be dire consequences.

He wasn't leaving her on Risa alone, either. She had a chaperone to ensure that she wouldn't get into any trouble, and he was completely confident that the chaperone could keep her in check long enough for McCoy to figure out from blood samples he took what kind of medical malady was causing her behavior changes. It had to be medical, after all. No one changes that severely so quickly.

All he had to do was figure it out for the few days he'd managed to convince Jim to stay in Risa's orbit. After those few days, she would come aboard again.

He only hoped that she wasn't having _too _much fun…so to speak.

* * *

><p>Celyn knew the reason McCoy had sent Spock with her on her 'mandatory shore leave' on Risa.<p>

Spock was her _babysitter._

Just the thought made her angry. She didn't need a babysitter. She was a grown woman. The only thing that had changed was she finally had confidence. She was finally _acting _like a grown woman, instead of a stuttering, babbling child. Why did he find it so hard to accept?

She felt her forehead. She was warm, even to her own touch, and McCoy had remarked that she had a low fever. She'd felt warm for at least a day, maybe a little longer. But it wasn't a big deal. She was on a pleasure planet now, staying in a luxury hotel. She'd change into a bathing suit and go to the beach. The ocean would cool her off.

She opened her door, having donned the suit—a light, turquoise blue that looked quite nice, she thought, with her eyes—and narrowed her eyes at the sight of a pointy-eared man. "What do you want?"

He took in her appearance slowly and then asked, "I can assume you are heading to the beach."

"Wow, you're a _genius_." She tried to pushed past him, but he successfully blocked her exit.

"Perhaps I shall join you."

Celyn blinked up at him before smirking. "I can't picture you at the beach, Spock."

His gaze narrowed slightly. "It seems Dr. McCoy was right to worry about your changed personality."

"No, he wasn't. I'm perfectly fine."

"You are not acting like the Lieutenant Mercy I was acquainted with."

She snorted loudly and finally managed to get around him. "You were never really acquainted with me, Spock."

She walked at a fast pace to the beach, and it only confused her when he followed. _He's just doing his duties as babysitter, _she thought bitterly. _He's going to completely ruin any fun I might have had on this planet._

He followed her to the beach but remained in the shade, watching her like some kind of stalker, while she waded into the ocean. She glared at him to try and make him leave, but he stubbornly stayed, so she got used to just trying to ignore him.

She swam in the ocean, reveling the feeling of cool water against her scorching skin. The salt slid its way past her lips. She waded out when she began to tire and laid herself out on a towel, winking at the muscled Risian man who was looking at her.

He grinned widely, his sun-lightened hair tousled from the ocean, but just as he began to approach her a shadow invaded her vision.

The Risian man at first stood tall, but then the shadow growled firmly, "Move along."

The man did just that, as Celyn recognized the shadow and sat up angrily. "What the hell, Spock?"

He spun around to face her and said, "He was approaching you for impure reasons, Lieutenant."

"I _know_. I wanted him to! Flirting is fun! It makes me feel attractive. If you're going to butt in every time someone comes to talk to me—"

"He was holding a _horga'hn _statue, Lieutenant. I'm unsure if you are aware of what that means."

Celyn scowled at him and said, "It's not like I had to accept it, Spock."

"Nevertheless. You are not in your right mind, and I was assigned by the captain to be your protector upon the suggestion of Dr. McCoy. I cannot allow anything to happen to you."

"Well, that's just peachy," she grumbled, crossing her arms and laying back to tan.

* * *

><p>McCoy grunted, looking up from his microscope, and remarked to Jim, "That was easy."<p>

"Huh?" Jim had been keeping him company for the last hour or so while McCoy examined Celyn's blood samples. "What was easy?"

"Get our little red-skinned buddies from that uncharted planet on the phone. I need to ask them a question about those fruits they gave you."

It certainly had been easy to figure out what was wrong. The same fruit that had given Kirk an allergic reaction was a fruit that the Piore used in their culture when a female was having trouble finding a mate. The fruit nearly eradicated inhibitions and increased sensuality to new heights. The effects of the fruit lasted anywhere from two days to two weeks—"Rather potent, isn't it," remarked McCoy dryly—and the only way they had found to negate its effects immediately was to consume an alcoholic drink that, roughly translated, was called The Eraser.

But, they informed him, any alcohol would do.

"Sounds creepy," McCoy grumbled again. "I can't believe the way to fix this is to get the kid drunk."

Jim got Spock on his comm. It had been a few hours since the planet had faded into nighttime and Risa's two moons had risen. "Spock? We figured out what was afflicting Lieutenant Mercy."

Jim explained the situation and waited for Spock's response, and once his voice came through, McCoy's eyes immediately narrowed.

"You pointy-eared son of a…" He trailed off dangerously, his voice close to a growl. "What do you mean you lost her?"

* * *

><p>Celyn had decided that night clubs were the best places in the universe. Risian men surrounded her, the occasional tourist thrown into the mix, and everyone was one gyrating mass of hot bodies. She <em>loved <em>it.

Honestly, she hadn't thought that giving Spock the slip would be quite so easy. He'd been on her trail the entire time—up until she had mixed in with a group of people sliding into the sleazy-looking night club.

She contemplated getting a drink, eyeing the fizzy concoction held tightly in the hand of a Risian female who breezed past her, but she didn't feel like drinking right now. It would be more fun when she found a drinking buddy. She wished vaguely that the captain was with her. Jim Kirk certainly would have been a blast to dance with.

She didn't know how long she'd been dancing when she saw the half-Vulcan again. Sweat was dripping down her back underneath the dress she wore, and she extracted herself from the dance floor with great difficulty, cool air from the entrance hitting her face with much needed relief.

He was standing just inside the club, scanning it with emotionless eyes, and when he found her, he locked her gaze. She met it back fearlessly, something she had never done, and he appeared in front of her in just a few steps.

"Lieutenant," he said, "what business have you in a place such as this?"

"Having fun," she retorted dryly. "I know that's a foreign concept to you."

He raised a single black eyebrow. "Have you been drinking?"

"Not yet." She lifted her chin at him. "I haven't found a suitable drinking partner yet."

"No men have approached you?"

"Didn't say that." She winked saucily and laughed.

He took in her appearance. "You are aware, Lieutenant, that you are wearing a garment nearly identical to a Risian wedding gown."

"You are aware, Commander," she mocked, "that I don't care."

"Lieutenant, would you care for a drink?"

Caught completely off-guard by his question, Celyn could only stare at him. Had the heartless Vulcan really just asked her if she wanted a drink?

"Depends." She eyed him carefully. "Are you going to drink with me?"

He stiffened. "I'd prefer not to, Lieutenant."

"I suppose, then," she shrugged, "that answers that question. A shame. Jim Kirk would have had a drink with me."

She noticed the subtle narrowing of his eyes as she issued the challenge. She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Celyn had won—he followed her as she sauntered over to the bar and ordered them both drinks.

* * *

><p>McCoy was pacing. Jim stood, stretching and yawning, and said, "Maybe I should go down there and see how they're doing."<p>

McCoy's eyes snapped to him immediately. "No," he protested animatedly. "I don't need you jumping on her. Or vice versa."

Jim shrugged. "Okay, okay, calm down, Bones. But I can't believe we're relying on _Spock _to get her drunk. Just saying."

* * *

><p>"You know," said Celyn, slamming down her third empty shot glass of…whatever the hell that purple stuff was. "I really like being this way."<p>

Spock set his own glass next to hers, but said nothing.

"I mean, I know I've been acting bitchy and slutty all wrapped up into one, but I haven't stuttered in _hours_." She waved to the bartender, who placed fresh drinks in front of them. Lifting her own, she looked into the half-Vulcan's surprisingly human brown eyes. "I could get used to not stuttering and shaking all the time. It's so…_frustrating._"

She downed the glass. "I had a sister, y'know. No one knows about her, I don't like to talk about it." She could feel the heat from the alcohol pooling in her stomach, leeching away the strange heat from her head, as if taking her fever away. "Her name was Elysia. She was so young but…everything I ever wanted to be. My opposite. That's why I like being this way. It reminds me of how confident she was."

Spock looked her over once. It didn't look as if the effects of the fruit had yet been fully neutralized. "Don't think I'm trying to pry, Lieutenant—"

She interrupted him with a brief, "Never."

"—but what happened to your sister?"

"Don't know." Celyn shook her head woefully. "Haven't seen her in…_God_, about thirteen years? I don't even know if she's still alive or not."

Another shot down, and she was beginning to sway slightly on her barstool. "Now _you_, Mr. Pointy-Ears, _you _are very much alive. Aren't you?"

"Yes," he answered stiffly. His fourth shot still sat on the table, untouched. She didn't seem to notice.

She nodded along with his affirmative. "Yes. Alive. I know you are. You know what else I know? I know that you _hate _me. Despise me. How could you not? I mean, I'm either being clumsy and tripping all over you or tricking you into buying me drinks." She raised her glass to him. "Thank you, by the way. I need…I need to get me some of this stuff. I usually don't drink, y'know, but this tastes like…" She swallowed it, wincing at the burn in her throat. "I'm not gonna tell you not to take advantage of me." She giggled. "Firstly, 'cause you're a hard-shell Vulcan and prob'ly wont, and secondly, 'cause if you did, I prob'ly wouldn't care!"

She laughed again, louder, and he figured that was enough alcohol for one night. He stood, paying the bartender, and said, "It's time to head back, Lieutenant. I think you are quite done for the night."

She shook her head weakly but didn't argue. When she stood from the barstool she wobbled, and he was forced to take her arm and lead her outside. Her emotions, leaden from her inebriated state, slammed into him like a brick wall through the contact of their skin and he winced slightly.

It was clear she couldn't walk well enough on her own, and so he had no choice but to lift her in his arms—successfully tripling the contact he had no desire for. He tried to establish some kind of mental barrier, but it wasn't him, it was her, and there was no stopping wave after wave.

Especially when the effects of the fruit vanished as the alcohol finally sunk into her blood stream. He caught every drop of shame, humiliation, embarrassment, and strange desire to fall into the floor that poured out of her as she came to her senses and realized exactly what she had done since ingesting the fruit. He pretended, out of courtesy, not to notice when she started weeping into his chest. By the time he got her back to her room, she was asleep.

He reported back to Captain and Dr. McCoy…leaving out what she had told him at the bar. He figured she was humiliated enough without that conversation being common knowledge.

* * *

><p>When Celyn woke up the next day, despite a pounding headache, she spent fifteen minutes begging and pleading with Spock to allow her to stay on Risa. There was no way she wanted to face the crew of the <em>Enterprise <em>yet—especially not the captain or McCoy, or even Spock for that matter. Spock at first was adamant about taking her back to the ship since, he said, "Your condition has improved dramatically."

Spock got McCoy on the comm and allowed her to stay only after McCoy said, "For God's sakes, Spock, if it means she'll stop blubbering like that, just let her stay. She knows I hate when she cries…"

"I'm so sorry, Leonard," she sobbed into Spock's comm. "I didn't mean to act like that, I'm so sorry—"

"It's okay, kid, relax. Jesus, maybe it is better if you stay down there for a few days."

She tried to figure out how she could apologize to the captain without actually speaking to him. Before Spock left for the _Enterprise_—McCoy had decided apparently that she was okay without a babysitter now that she was back in her right mind—she scrambled to write Kirk a note and hand it to Spock with the whispered request that he deliver it for her.

Spock didn't seem too pleased at being first a babysitter and now a messenger, but he accepted the letter nonetheless.

The first day she stayed in Risa on her own, she hid in her room and wallowed in her embarrassment.

McCoy had apparently predicted that was exactly what she would do, because he used the hotel communication to call and say, "You better not be holed up in your room the whole time, kid."

She had panicked, feeling like he was watching her, and had promptly visited the steam-pool. It turned out to be the best choice—she returned to the hotel relaxed and ready to actually try and unwind. She heard about the gardens and vowed to visit, as well as the boat-restaurant, but first, Suraya Bay. It was supposed to be beautiful, with villas built into the cliffs over-looking it, and she silently wished she was staying in one of them. But she shouldn't be ungrateful. McCoy had organized all of this and paid for it. She owed him so much already.

* * *

><p>The brochures were right: Suraya Bay was absolutely beautiful. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the air, the scenery—<p>

"Well, well, fancy seeing you here."

Celyn jumped, turning on her heel to see a blonde Risian man—the same Risian man who had eyed her on the beach before Spock stepped in.

"Your bodyguard isn't here, I see." He threw her a wink. "He your mate?"

Her cheeks erupted into color, but before she could stammer through a denial, he said, "Aw, you're blushing. How cute." He slung his arm around her shoulders and added in a quick, flirtatious, "Up for a good time?"

"Um, I-I know what I hinted at the other day on the beach, b-but I really—"

"Oh, c'mon. It'll be fun. I'm not taking no for an answer."

She tried to push him away from her, but he was strong, and it certainly seemed as if he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Until an equally strong man grabbed the Risian's shoulder and pulled him backwards, saying, "Bodyguard number two thinks that's a bad idea."

Celyn's wide eyes took in the sight of her captain dangerously eying the alien man. Despite the normally-joking aspect his words would have taken, Jim Kirk was giving the Risian a decidedly poisonous look.

"I apologize," said the Risian through clenched teeth. "I thought she was…unaccompanied."

Kirk smiled and said, "She is never unaccompanied."

The Risian left them, grumbling in dissatisfaction, and Kirk's face evened out into a gentle expression as she avoided his gaze, embarrassed.

"You okay?"

She nodded mutely, and he added, "McCoy wanted to check on you, but I volunteered. Spock gave me your letter."

"Captain—" Her eyes shot to him in a panic. "I—"

He held up a hand to stop her, blue eyes twinkling. "Before you say anything, I will not hold it against you, nor do I think any worse of you. We're traveling the unknown universe. Shit's gonna happen."

"Er, yes…I-I'm sorry I acted so inappropriately…"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, really. Let's talk about your vacation. What have you done so far?"

She blushed again, a guilty smile tugging at her lips. "Nothing…"

"Nothing? Are you serious, Mercy? This planet has so much!" He grabbed her wrist. "C'mon, we're starting now."

"B-But, Captain…" she floundered, distracted by his skin on hers. "I-I wanted to see the bay…"

"Here it is, there's nothing extra to see."

"B-But—"

"Okay." He stopped pulling her and lifted his hands in surrender. "If you are set on the bay, who am I to tell you different? It's your vacation."

She eyed him for a moment, not expecting stubborn Kirk to give up so quickly. "Y-Yes. That's right, it's my vacation."

"Just do me one favor. I'll let you have all day to spend here at the boring bay, if you let me show you the _fun _bay tonight."

"Fun…bay…?"

His grin widened, showing perfect, gleaming white teeth. "Join me for dinner. There's a restaurant that sails onto the bay a little after sunset. I'll meet you in this exact spot just before then."

Kirk turned away, but added slyly, "Oh, and you let me know if anyone else tries to give you trouble."

* * *

><p>Her wildest dreams could not have portrayed this any better. The captain had rescued her, the captain had touched her, <em>the captain had invited her to dinner with him. <em>She felt like she was going to faint, and once he was safely out of sight, she sank down to the ground and focused on steady breathing.

* * *

><p>"Jim, you can't just ask her to dinner so casually." McCoy's scolding voice crackled over the comm.<p>

"Why not, Bones? I'm the captain, she's my lieutenant—"

"Not on that planet, and you damn well know it," said McCoy crossly. "Don't you think it's a bit cruel, Jim, toying with her feelings so offhandedly?"

"Sheesh, Bones, I know she has a crush on me and all, but you're acting as if I'm leading her on."

"It does kinda seem that way, kid."

"I mean she's good-looking, but she's so awkward and kind of a spaz—"

"And that's exactly what she _doesn't _want you to think about her. Do you know how hard she tries just to get you to notice her at all?"

"I think you're over-reacting, Bones. Don't worry about it. I won't let it lead to anything and I won't let her get the wrong idea. Happy?"

"Not really, Jim, but there's only so much I can do."

* * *

><p>Celyn spritzed on just a little bit extra of the gardenia perfume, smoothing her clothing down ever so slightly. Her dress was one she had gotten here on Risa, and she had searched high and low for the most conservative dress on the planet: though the dress was form fitting and shorter than she'd like, the neckline was a high crew cut, scooping just below her neck. It was a light, shimmering green, with blue beading that sparkled like the stars when she moved. It was the only thing she could remember buying for herself since she'd joined StarFleet.<p>

She arrived at the spot Kirk had told her to meet at and stood, alone, as the sun made its slow descent towards the horizon. She waited, and waited, but finally right before the sun touched that line of water, the captain appeared, jogging up to her with a flustered expression.

"Sorry I'm late," he panted, face flushed. His eyes shone brightly, a deeper truer blue than any amount of beading could ever be, and his smile made her knees weak. She forgave him instantly.

He wore plain black slacks and a light blue button up shirt, looking the part of a gentleman even though it was too hot for slacks and they were going to have to wade into the bay a little ways in order to get to the restaurant.

"After you." He smiled, taking her hand gently when she lifted the hem of her dress a little, paranoid it would touch the water and be ruined.

* * *

><p>Dinner was delicious, the restaurant was beautiful…but it wasn't the perfect night Celyn had always pictured. Conversation was easy—once she controlled a majority of her stutter—but forgettable, even despite the fact that it was her beloved captain seated across from her. As the night went on, however, she kept up a hope that he would touch her shoulder or hold her hand or, God forbid lest she think of it and faint, kiss her. Something affectionate, at least. Instead, over dessert, Jim Kirk smiled at her and said, "This was fun, wasn't it?"<p>

"Y-Yes." She nodded, smiling back. "U-Um, Captain…"

"Hm? Something on your mind, Mercy?"

Her hands dropped to her lap and she nervously wrung her napkin where he could not see. "What…What do you think of me?"

He stopped eating and waited so long before answering that she fidgeted in her seat. "I think with a little coaching you could overcome your nerves and be very talented on the bridge. The skills are there, it's just a matter of execution. If you'd stop worrying—"

He was poking fun at her, smiling, and she normally wouldn't have minded it. "Captain," she interrupted him. "That's fine…" _That's nice, actually… _"But…what do you think of…_me_?"

"You?" Kirk seemed confused.

"As…a-as a person."

"I see." There was another long pause. "I think we could be great friends, don't you, Mercy?"

The word echoed in her mind long after the captain dropped her off at her room. _Friends. _That was how he thought of her. Friends. She thought of what else he had said. _Coaching…nerves…execution…_ It all floated above her head in a dizzying circle. He didn't respect her the way she'd always wanted, not yet anyway, and that in itself was one shallow blow. A deeper hit, to a more crucial area, was his obvious and specific choice of words: _friends_. His deliberate use told her what she needed to know; that he knew of her affections and had picked the best way to shoot her down with what he thought would be the least amount of damage.

But the damage was there, as surely as if he had screamed it in her face.

She forced herself not to cry, forced herself to try and handle this alone to become stronger and more independent.

In the end, she crumbled—though she didn't cry, she called McCoy, with the sound of tears barely a threat in her voice. When she heard his voice, she clenched her fist on her lap and said, "Maybe you were right, Leonard. I don't know what love is."

"Why do you say that, kid? Did something happen?"

"If I loved him, what would I do when faced with the certainty that he doesn't love me?"

McCoy took a deep, slow breath that she heard audibly. "Celyn, I'm sorry."

Her jaw tightened and then relaxed as she got a hold of herself. "What would I do, Leonard?" she asked again.

"I imagine you'd cry."

"And if I don't?"

McCoy's response was a soft: "Then I guess you never loved him, kid."

* * *

><p>AN: whoa. heavy. **review **pretty please.


	5. Compensation

A/N: okay, this chapter took forever to crank out. sorry! and, just a warning, i made the Klingon civilized on purpose. those things do exist, you know.

now that i've thoroughly confused you, on with the show.

* * *

><p>Celyn arrived back on the <em>Enterprise <em>two days later, armed with an excited retelling of the subterranean gardens on Risa—"The plants glow in the _dark_, Leonard!"—but feeling oddly…dispatched. Distant. Though pleased by the gardens, her face didn't have the light and childlike expression it should have had.

McCoy watched her sadly, knowing it couldn't have been avoided. She would've found out eventually that the captain didn't care for her in that way, and she would've had to learn that she didn't really love him. That wasn't love. But how could McCoy tell her that?

It was better this way, he told himself.

That didn't stop him from being concerned at her weak smiles and detached responses. She never did cry, and he supposed for that he was grateful. Jim didn't notice the subtle detachment of his lieutenant, and McCoy was grateful for that as well—the young man had enough things to worry about, and he didn't need to feel bad for hurting her. He had done it in the nicest way possible.

Celyn wasn't upset with the captain. McCoy had asked her, each and every time he went to check on her, if she was angry with him, and every time she shook her head and said, "It's not his fault."

Though the captain was unaware of her current state, his first officer was not quite so oblivious.

"I find it quite irrational, Lieutenant, for you to return from shore leave in this state."

Celyn stared at his chest, fingers curling and uncurling on the doorframe. She had opened the door of her quarters to the sight of the half-Vulcan's scrutinizing gaze, and those had been the first words out of his mouth.

"What state?" she lied. "I'm fine."

"You are not 'fine', as you call it," he said, eyebrows turned down. "Are you still dwelling on how you acted while under the influence of the fruit?"

"No." She sighed. "Really, C-Commander, I'm very tired, and my next shift starts soon…"

"If you will, Lieutenant, I have a few…pressing questions I would like answered."

She peeked up at him just as he looked behind her and asked, "May I come in?"

She stepped aside, motioning weakly, and the door whooshed closed behind him. Realizing too late that her hair was not pulled back in a clip as per usual, she fidgeted uncomfortably and gestured for him to take a seat. He did so, sitting in the chair, which left the bed the only remaining place for her to sit. She sat on the edge of it and waited for the commander to phrase his questions.

"Lieutenant," he began finally, fixing her with a steady glance. "I can safely assume you recall all of your behavior after eating the fruit, correct?"

Celyn flinched. "Yes. I already apologized to everyone and yourself—"

"I am not here for another apology. You then remember our conversation in the bar?"

She blinked, her face slowly turning red, and she wished sincerely that she could crawl in the corner and hide. "W-Which part, Commander?"

Spock hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Once inebriated, you stated that you 'wouldn't care' if I 'took advantage' of you. If I am clear in my understanding of the phrase, please explain your meaning."

Her mouth went dry. He mentioned it so _casually_. How the hell could he be so calm about this? "U-Um, well, what is your…" She cleared her throat. "W-What is your understanding of the phrase?"

"I believe you were implying that you would be indifferent should I choose to have sexual relations with you while you were in said state."

She swallowed thickly. "I-I see…" _That's what I was afraid you thought. _She thought she'd die of embarrassment right then. _Did I…Did I really mean it like that?_ "I-It seems as though your understanding is…accurate. W-What do you need me to c-clarify, exactly?"

"I request to know why that phrase was verbalized."

"U-Uh…" _I can't believe I actually said that. _"I-I was drunk, C-Commander, you can't h-hold me to anything I said—"

"Alcohol merely dampens your inhibitions. It does not make you spout lies."

"C-Commander Spock—" _Do I think about him like that? Is that really what my subconscious thinks?_

"Am I to assume, then, that you are physically attracted to me? I was under the impression that the captain was the one who held your esteem and attraction."

Celyn's jaw dropped. "H-How did you—"

"Irrelevant, Lieutenant. Your emotional reaction is illogical. You did not seriously think it was a secret how you felt for the captain."

A slow brew of anger, stemming from her extreme embarrassment, stirred in her stomach. "You…Y-You're out of line, s-sir!"

Spock stood suddenly, movements sharp. "I'm sorry. I've upset you."

When he turned his back, she realized her cheeks were wet with tears. His movements were so hasty because she was having, as he would phrase it, an 'emotional reaction'. With the abruptly irrational sense that she should explain, she called out, "I don't."

He slowed. "Don't what, Lieutenant?"

"I-I don't have feelings for the captain." _Not anymore. _Thankfully, her voice held the conviction she needed—both to convince the first officer, and convince herself.

She took a deep breath. _Confidence, confidence… _"And I said what I did because I was d-drunk and any girl in her right m-mind would find you physically attractive. But that d-doesn't mean I appreciate you b-bringing this up. It's inappropriate."

"Again, I apologize, Lieutenant. It was merely to…satisfy my curiosity and receive your reassurance that it will not affect your work."

Her fists clenched and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something she was sure she'd regret later. _It will never affect my work. How can I even call him attractive! _The anger was new to her, a feeling she was not used to feeling before, and she wasn't sure if she was angry at him for speaking like this, or angry at herself. "It does not affect me in the slightest, _sir._"

"Very good, Lieutenant. I shall see you on the bridge." Just before he exited the room entirely, he quirked an eyebrow and added, "If you desire, we may have a game of chess tonight."

"Sure." She responded in the affirmative without really hearing his words, but at this point she just didn't care. Clench, unclench, went her hands. She needed to speak with Leonard before her embarrassment overflowed.

He nodded shortly, and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>McCoy, apparently, found the whole situation increasingly funny. He chortled loudly, holding his stomach with one hand while he grasped at a sickbay bed for support with his other hand. "You had to be dreaming, kid."<p>

"I wasn't _dreaming_—"

"You had to have been. I highly doubt the hobgoblin actually asked if you were sexually attracted to him."

She crossed her arms, embarrassed, and mumbled, "To be fair, he followed up with the concern that my so-called 'attraction' would affect me on the bridge."

"_That _sounds like something he'd say." McCoy attempted to stifle his laughter, coughing. "I can't believe he brought that up."

"_I _can't believe I didn't die of embarrassment…" She rubbed her arm, uncomfortable, and the doctor gave her a reassuring smile.

"That would've been sad, kid. Embarrassment is such a sissy way to go." He laughed again, then cleared his throat when she didn't join in. "Look, if it's really worrying you that much, relax. Spock is nothing if not professional. He probably won't talk about this ever again."

She nodded absently, before letting loose a loud groan and bursting into abrupt tears.

"What? What's wrong?" spluttered a confused doctor.

"I agreed to play _chess _with him tonight!"

His only response for her was more side-splitting laughter, before a guilty expression flashed across his face and he began to console her.

* * *

><p>After stuttering through a demand for an apology from Leonard, Celyn floated through her shift with a rock in the pit of her stomach. The uncomfortable feeling got worse, until it felt like her stomach was twisting into knots, when she found herself in front of Spock's door.<p>

"Lieutenant Mercy." Her name, accompanied by his traditionally emotionless nod of acknowledgement, wrung the knots until she thought her insides would explode.

"C-Commander."

The tension formed immediately, like a thick fog, from the moment she entered the room. She was used to the sweltering heat of the half-Vulcan's quarters, and this time had dress appropriately and placed her ponytail higher on her head to keep her neck cool.

"The chess set looks nice set up," she murmured, mostly to herself, as she observed where he had placed it. The pieces were truly beautiful, detailed in a way she'd never seen before, one side of green marbled pieces and one side of black, and she briefly wondered how chess had managed to translate so well throughout the universe.

They sat at the table, Celyn's leg bouncing as she fought the urge to run from the uneasiness, and Spock suddenly said, "I've been informed that I approached you incorrectly."

Celyn blinked once, twice, and Spock lifted his chin slightly. "The way I acted earlier and my asking of those questions was…improper. I formally apologize if I have made you uncomfortable."

His hands were on the table, tense, and Celyn's eyes were drawn downward as a tendon in his finger twitched towards her slightly.

"I…I appreciate your apology," she said quietly. "The situation as a whole is…uncomfortable for me."

"Situation?"

She could tell from his voice that he had raised a Vulcan eyebrow, but her gaze didn't shift from his hands. "You are…informed of my p-previous feelings for…" _Jim. _"I was made p-painfully aware very recently that those feelings were n-not reciprocated. I am ashamed, and…" _Having you tell me the things I said while you got me drunk isn't helping matters._

"I see."

The way he said it, she really felt like in that instant he did see. It was as if he understood. As if, whatever she told him, he would be on her side. It was the first time she had ever felt that vibe from the first officer.

"If I may ask one thing. You are ashamed of your feelings for the Captain, Lieutenant? Or ashamed of your words to me on Risa?"

The twitch in his finger occurred again, but Celyn chalked it up as nothing. "Both," she answered. She clasped her hands in her lap in an attempt to avoid wringing them. "The captain came to see me on Risa. I think Leonard may have asked him to keep an eye on me. But…Captain asked me to dinner and I thought…"

She shook her head. "It must be so annoying for you, that I'm so weak. You must still believe me unworthy of my position."

"Perhaps weak is the incorrect adjective, Lieutenant. True, you are ruled and swayed by your emotion, but it is my understanding that is the nature of humans."

"I'm weaker than most," she whispered. "I actually thought I loved him."

Now, as she had been watching his hands for some time, she noticed the tensing of his muscle, the slight tightening that occurred for maybe a second or two before Spock controlled himself. It was small, it was quick, but it was there. Reaching forward without thinking, as if her arm was no longer connected to her brain, she placed her hand over his in a comforting gesture—she didn't know what was wrong, but he was obviously affected by something, and if Celyn was nothing else, she was kind.

From the moment her skin made contact with his, however, he pulled back from her as if her touch burned. His chair toppled backwards as he sprung to his feet, and the table shook, causing the sturdy crystal pieces to tremble on the chess board. The green king was the only piece to fall, cracking loudly against the marble board and rolling off of the table onto the floor.

Celyn retracted her hand immediately, panic invading her chest. "Did I…Did I offend you?"

"I think I may have overestimated my current fatigue level. Perhaps it would be best if we called it a night." His voice was tight, stretched thin. Strained.

_Commander Spock? _"B-But I…?"

"Perhaps you forgave me too hastily, Lieutenant. Doctor McCoy told me I had quite upset you earlier."

_Is he…It sounds like he's…coming up with excuses for me to leave._

"Commander Spock—" She reached toward him again on impulse but quickly drew her hand back to her chest.

"I must retire for the night. We will continue this at a later time, Lieutenant."

Before she knew what was happening, the door to his quarters were shut in her face, and she realized he had ushered her into the hallway without actually touching her. It seemed as if this was how most nights of chess with the half-Vulcan were going to end—with her doing something to offend him and then promptly being forced to leave without actually playing chess.

She sighed and bit her lip before gathering her hurt feelings off the floor and proceeding back to her own room.

* * *

><p>Spock took slow, steady breaths. Perhaps he would meditate. Yes, meditation would surely help, for this was nothing more than an affliction of the mind, a weakening of his mental shields, a side effect from being only part Vulcan. He would meditate for a while, and then he would be quite fine. Yes, yes, quite fine.<p>

As he stepped forward, the toe of his shoe nudged the piece that had fallen from the chess board. The green king, the king that, when he had set it up intending to play, was to be his. There was now a crack marring its appearance, coloring it in a way distinctly different from the other pieces. For a moment, he came up with the completely illogical thought that he could sympathize with this cracked king. Then he banished the thought to the farthest regions of his mind, placed the king in its place none too gently, and arranged himself for a long, much needed meditation.

Yes. Yes. He would be quite fine if he could just meditate.

* * *

><p>Never let it be said that Celyn hadn't honestly considered giving up. She hadn't taken up Spock's offer of another chess game, her training with Sulu had fallen by the wayside, and besides cordial greetings and pleasant but short conversation, her captain hardly looked at her anymore. She felt as if she had taken five giant steps backward.<p>

Then, one day during her shift, a blip appeared on the radar and she turned to Kirk with a thudding heartbeat to inform him, "Captain, Klingon Warbirds, sir."

There wasn't the panic she felt the first time. She was calmer, but she wasn't sure if that was because she had been through it once before, or if it was because her captain was there.

"Where?" Kirk demanded.

"Just on the outside of the scanners, sir," she said. "Two. Heading…" She glanced up in surprise. "Heading…right for us, sir."

Kirk acted quickly, as he always did, and despite all that had happened Celyn couldn't help but watch in awe. "Shields activated at full power. I want weapons ready and locked just in case. We need to be ready for any situation."

She did as he said, even as he ordered Sulu to try and stay on the edges of the Klingons' sensors.

"Keptin," yelled Chekov suddenly. "Receiving transmission!"

"Onscreen, Chekov."

A Klingon face, one Celyn was sure she should recognize—though really, and this was very bad, but they looked so very _similar _to her—appeared.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_," spoke Kirk firmly, voice full of authority. "Who am I speaking to?"

"I am Ambassador K'Vada of the Klingon Empire," said the Klingon, and though Celyn hadn't recognized the face, she recognized the voice.

From the looks of it as Celyn swung her panicked gaze around the bridge, so did Uhura and Chekov.

"I have previously encountered your crew," K'Vada continued, "though you were, as stated by one of your females, 'detained'. I am glad to finally meet the infamous _Enterprise _captain."

"You're too kind," said Kirk wryly.

"I see your ship has locked weapons. There is no need. I merely approach in a…friendly context, you could say."

"I'm sure you won't blame me if I don't say."

The Klingon nodded shortly. "I understand your position, Captain Kirk. The matter is this—last time I encountered the _Enterprise_, I was met with two particular females. One spoke, and one I noticed was in command of the ship's weaponry. I would like those females to step forward now and address me."

Uhura stepped up and, adrenaline pumping in her veins and hands shaking, Celyn followed suit.

"Yes, these are the females." K'Vada nodded again.

"I feel I must ask why you have singled these two out," said Kirk.

Uhura stood tall, but Celyn knew that soon she would be trembling all over.

"Previously, this ship was attacked by two Klingon ships who were accompanying me. The attack was unprovoked and purely the fault of the Klingon vessels, and your crew had every right to retaliate and retaliate they did. However, upon arriving at my destination it was deemed necessary to request compensation for the loss of the ships."

Kirk chuckled slightly. "I'm sure if the Klingon Empire would participate in peace talks with the Federation, something may be worked out."

"Unfortunately, Captain Kirk, there has been a cry of outrage among my people. I personally am against war with the Federation, but those who agree with me are few and far between. I am an educated man, Captain, a peaceful man, but I am also an anomaly within the Klingon race. My people demand retribution. To prevent a war, retribution they must get."

Uhura was beginning to fidget. Both women were uneasy now. _Just what is he getting at?_

"I'm afraid, Captain, that one of these females must be handed over to us as payment."

For about thirty solid seconds, in which no one said a word, Celyn stopped breathing.

Only when she got lightheaded and the world began to sway did she hurriedly inhale and let out a squeaky, "What?"

"The one who spoke to me," here the Klingon nodded at Uhura, "appeared to hold higher authority and would be fair compensation. The people wanted the one who destroyed the ships," _Me, _thought Celyn weakly, "but a person of higher rank would be a fitting substitute. I'm afraid you must choose, Captain Kirk."

Uhura went from looking scared to looking outraged. She whirled on the captain, mouth open to presumably launch a tirade on why she should _not _be picked, when a quiet voice suddenly said, "I'll go."

Celyn clapped her hand over her mouth harshly, skin stinging, as she realized what she had just said. _No, no, no, I didn't mean it—_

She desperately wished she could take it back, no, no, take Uhura instead, she didn't want to—

And then she realized what she was doing. It was Elysia and the foster system all over again. She had been selfish then, she was being selfish now.

_But you don't even like Uhura! She doesn't like you either! You're throwing your life away for someone you don't even care for! _screamed a voice in her head.

Another voice, however, just as loud, combated, _That's the reason you should do it. She's essentially a stranger. You couldn't do it for your sister. You should do it now. Be the selfless person you want to be. Be Elysia._

So Celyn, shaking like a leaf, cleared her throat and repeated, "I'll go."

Spock suddenly stepped forward, "Lieutenant Mercy, now is not the time to make rash decisions. Allow for us to negotiate—"

"No." Her voice cracked pitifully. _So weak, so weak… _"No negotiation. I'll go." She attempted a smile and failed. "Not like you're really losing anyone important anyway."

She turned away so she wouldn't have to look at anyone anymore, feeling every pair of eyes on the bridge watching her as she walked towards the lift. "Captain?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him one last time. "Tell Leonard I'm sorry, will you? Please?"

"Mercy—"

"Captain, please. Tell him?"

"…Okay, Mercy."

A few minutes later, she was in the heart of a Klingon Warbird, two armed guards on either side of her, watching her ship, her beloved captain, her best friend, and her…_whatever Spock was_…vanish away into warp.

* * *

><p>AN: thoughts? anybody? excuse the odd Klingon behavior...i really can't make them too terribly evil, as i was raised in the era of Lieutenant Worf. so i modeled this Klingon ambassador sortof off of Worf. anyway, be kind, **review.**


	6. A Wench's Fate

A/N: i made her recollections a little choppy on purpose. because who really remembers every moment of an experience like this? i'm willing to bet it either all blurs together or ever little detail sticks out. i went with the blur-together option because that's my style.

* * *

><p>"Don't worry," said K'Vada, looking down at Celyn as she trembled uncontrollably in the grip of armed Klingon soldiers. "You will not be treated barbarically on my ship."<p>

_What about when I'm not on this ship anymore?_

They took her to a holding cell on the Warbird, locking her away. The Ambassador himself would sometimes bring her simple meals, sliding it in a slot so that she felt even more like a caged bird.

Singing her lullaby hardly helped, and after a while she found herself actually forgetting the tune.

She tried to hold onto the hope that the _Enterprise _would return for her, that somehow she would be rescued. She thought of Leonard when she felt most like crying, and when she felt cold, she thought that thinking of her captain would help. He was still someone she admired, so it should work, shouldn't it?

Instead, she thought of the rare curving of Spock's mouth, when it curled up just on one side when he was immersed in a chess game, the closest thing in the universe to a Vulcan smile. Her cheeks bloomed with heat and, no longer cold, she ripped her thoughts away from him and back to Leonard.

She didn't know how long she was present aboard the Warbird, but when she was transported to the planet's surface, the ambassador gave her an oddly sympathetic look—one which she didn't fully understand until she was taken to her new prison cell to await her fate. Before locking the door, three Klingon prison guards, who spoke words in their guttural native tongue, entered her cell and beat her.

"_You will not be treated barbarically on my ship."_

_But I will be here. Here, I am nothing._

They left her with a blackened eye, numerous bruises and cuts, and what she felt sure was a broken rib. She curled in on herself to cry, knowing now it would only get worse.

* * *

><p>"How could you just let her go, Jim? What the hell were you thinking?"<p>

Jim stared at his Chief Medical Officer and best friend in shock—he had never seen the other man so angry. McCoy was pacing, his face breaking out in harsh red blotches, and his voice was loud and hoarse with rage.

"Why do I seem to be the only one who cares that _you just let Celyn volunteer herself for death_?"

Jim had gone to the sick bay to talk with his friend because he felt an intense guilt over letting the young Lieutenant be taken by the Klingon ambassador, but McCoy's anger allowed no room for sympathy to the captain.

"There was no other option, Doctor." The half-Vulcan first officer was here as well, upon requesting that Uhura be briefly looked over, even though she protested that she was in a fine mental state. He had assured her it was 'merely protocol', and so the sick bay consisted of cool Spock, flustered Jim, silent Uhura, and screaming McCoy.

"No other option?" McCoy repeated incredulously.

Jim glanced briefly at Spock. The words were what Jim had expected from the half-Vulcan, but something in his tone was slightly…off.

"I believe," continued the doctor in a dangerous tone, "the other option is standing right next to you, you damned hobgoblin!"

"Are you suggesting, Dr. McCoy, that we should have allowed Lieutenant Uhura to be taken in place of Lieutenant Mercy?"

"I'm _suggesting _we should have planned better or tried to negotiate first—"

"I suggested negotiation, Doctor, but Lieutenant Mercy refused."

"—without letting Celyn go off and try to be a hero by saving someone who hates her!"

At this statement, two pairs of eyebrows raised, and two sets of eyes swiveled to look at Uhura. The dark-haired woman fidgeted uncomfortably before snapping, "Alright, I don't really like her, sue me. She's just spineless and—and—"

"And she saved your ungrateful life," snapped McCoy. "Some people would call that _nice_!"

"It's not like I'm not _grateful_—"

"Certainly sounds that way to me!"

"Bones," interjected Jim cautiously, "I know you're upset, but that's not really fair."

"Fair?" His voice went up four notches in volume. "Fair? Oh, wow, I am _so _sorry that I'm not being _fair_."

"She made the choice that was best for the ship." Uhura's voice betrayed only the slight guilt she felt at letting the other girl take her place. After all, she was still human. "I'm…a higher ranking officer, more experienced and overall better for the ship—"

"Celyn always makes choices for others, never once for herself. She wanted to be _better_," snapped McCoy. "That's why she chose to go. She thought it would improve everyone's opinion of her. You think she didn't know what people thought of her?"

"Bones, just calm down, we're going to save her—"

"We can't _save _her, Jim, without starting a war. The time to _save _her has passed. She's gone."

* * *

><p>She could feel all the strength she had gathered being leeched away every time those guards came to her cell. She lost track of time, of how long she was really in captivity, but it felt like months. She had learned what got her hurt the worst.<p>

They got more violent when she stuttered or begged or cried. When she questioned them, they kicked her. When she was obedient, she was only backhanded.

It hadn't taken long to break her spirit—she had nothing to keep her strong. Her friendship with Leonard wasn't strong enough to help her after her third beating, and thinking of her captain—not _her _captain, never _her _captain, just _the _captain—only made her cry.

She tried sleeping, tried eating, but she did only enough of both to stay alive. They stopped visiting her for a while, and once a doctor even came to look at her. She was immediately reminded of Leonard.

They stayed away while she healed. They took their sweet, precious time, and _waited _until she felt almost healthy again, and then they returned.

The same three. Always the same three. Always most violent the first time, always the most pain the last.

Always.

It took a while, but she finally realized why they were doing this.

Because she meant nothing. She was nothing. She served no purpose other to be in the way. Her life was forfeit.

Then once after a beating, while darkness encroached on her vision as it always did so that she could escape from the damned pain, she heard an authoritative voice say, "That's enough. She's ready."

The guards left, and a different hand, with less force than the others, grabbed her hair and lifted her head. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn't make out a face. "You're lucky the K'Vada takes pity on you. Are you ready for your fate, human wench?"

* * *

><p>When she awoke next, her hands were bound in front of her with rope. Her clothing had been removed, her skin thick with grime, and though her face burned with embarrassment and humiliation, she knew that this to them was mercy, and if she did anything wrong, they would kill her.<p>

She stood atop a large wooden platform, a crowd gathering around, staring at her with scrutinizing, cruel eyes. As a Klingon began to shout in his native tongue, she realized that this was eerily similar to slave auctions hundreds of years ago on Earth. When the crowd reacted and the Klingon on the platform with her forced her head up so she could be examined further, she knew that was exactly what it was: she was being auctioned off as a slave.

She had wished at first that they would just kill her. Now, she had no preference. She felt nothing. It's what they wanted; to break her.

She couldn't follow the bidding—the auctioneer cracked a spiked whip, and she dropped her head hurriedly. He hadn't hit her with it, after all they wanted her in peak physical condition to get the best price, but she didn't want to invoke his anger.

In the end, she was sold to a hooded figure. She avoided looking up, staring at the ground like a proper slave as the figure grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip and towed her through the dusty market.

She knew how she should act. It had been beaten into her.

When he—she assumed it to be a he—shoved her into a small room until she fell forwards onto a bed, however, she started panicking.

"Please." Her voice was raw and cracked. "Don't."

There was a blur, and she flinched, sure he was going to hit her. Instead, a pile of clothes flew onto her lap.

"Put those on," the figure commanded.

"Yes, Master…" It was unbelievably humiliating, but if she didn't—

"You need not address me as such, Lieutenant."

Her heart nearly stopped. Lieutenant. How long had it been since she was called anything other than 'wench'?

Then the hood dropped, revealing the last person she had ever expected to see again.

"Commander Spock," she breathed. "You…You're the one who bought me?"

"Put those clothes on, Lieutenant. I'm taking you back to the _Enterprise_."

* * *

><p>He replaced the hood when they left the little room—apparently it was some kind of Klingon motel?—and she followed him through the market, nearly losing him more than once. When he realized she was having a harder time than him weaving through the busy street, he reached back and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, over the sleeve of her shirt so that their skin wasn't touching.<p>

He led her back to a shuttlecraft, and once within it she exhaled a slow breath and suddenly said, "Take me back."

His head snapped up to her, dark brown eyes staring with what she thought could be surprise. "This is no time for stupidity, Lieutenant."

"If they find out I was rescued, won't it just start a war?"

"At the current rate, a war with the Klingon Empire is all but expected, but it will not be because of you. You were not rescued, Lieutenant. McCoy was right, it was too late to save you. I bought you. The measures of Ambassador K'Vada's demands have been met. There is nothing they can do to harm you now."

He stared at her with a steady expression, and she felt as if in that look he was absorbing everything she had gone through. It was as if he knew what had happened, how she had changed, and he repeated, "It was too late to save you, Lieutenant, and for that I apologize."

She said nothing in response for a while. Once the shuttle was off the ground, she asked, "How long was I gone?"

"Two weeks."

_Two weeks. Felt longer._

Spock put a hand inside the pocket of his robe and withdrew a book she recognized.

"That's…"

"Doctor McCoy entrusted me with it."

She frowned as she slowly took her diary from his hands. "That's supposed to be sent to Elysia when I die."

"You haven't died yet, Lieutenant."

Celyn didn't blink, staring at him just as steadily as he had at her, but then she dropped her head. "I had assumed, since I'd been gone so long…"

"We did not report your absence or our interaction with the Ambassador."

_Why?_

He seemed to sense her thoughts and said, "They would have kept a rescue team from being deployed. This isn't an official mission. I put in a request for shore leave so that I could conduct a search for you."

She felt oddly…flattered. Was that normal? "Why you?"

"It would be suspicious for the captain to take a shore leave now, and Doctor McCoy is too emotional to make the rational decisions necessary to ensure that you would not be pursued by the Klingon once you had been found."

The rest of the shuttle flight was quiet. Once she saw the _Enterprise_, that large beautiful ship hovering there in space, she felt like it didn't need her anymore. Like she would only taint it now.

"The rest of the crew, those who were not on the bridge, do not know that you've been taken. McCoy has been saying, to those who asked, that you're ill and must be confined to your quarters."

"Thank you." The gratitude was forced and hollow.

"Your stutter is gone," he commented. "I assume through…conditioning."

_If that's what you want to call it. _She swallowed thickly. "I was…too weak."

"On the contrary," said Spock in a quiet voice. "A weaker individual would have been consumed."

"You said it was too late for me to be rescued." Her voice broke pitifully, and she felt like a child.

"That does not mean it is too late for you to be salvaged." His deep eyes bored into hers, and the trembling in her hands returned. She flinched instinctively. When she had shaken before, they had kicked harder.

_I won't be treated like that anymore, _she assured herself. _That's over now._

"You are not unchanged by your experience, Mercy, but that doesn't mean you have to be defeated by it."

She felt defeated. She had never felt anything but defeated from the moment they hurt her.

* * *

><p>Spock took her to sick bay first. He had meant for her to be looked over and taken care of medically, but when McCoy saw her he wrapped her in a hug and whispered into her hair while she began to cry. For a moment or two, she wondered if this was what it would've been like to have a father who loved her.<p>

McCoy was rambling off questions, asking if she was okay as he gave her a thorough checkup. Two barely-healed ribs, a badly set broken wrist, and several bruises were the final diagnoses. Spock waited, to both her surprise and chagrin, until McCoy reset her wrist and gave her a few hyposprays, and then he led her back to her quarters.

"I'm sure you're exhausted, Lieutenant. Don't worry, your shifts on the bridge have been altered accordingly."

She looked down at her hands, inhaled, and then said, "I don't want to be on this ship anymore."

"I don't understand."

"I'm weak, and useless, and all I do is cause trouble for Leonard, the captain, and…and you." Inhale, exhale. "I don't want to fight, I don't want to play chess, I don't want to be on the _Enterprise_—"

He held up a hand to stop her and commanded, "Look at me, Lieutenant." She obeyed. "Do you recall asking me once if I thought highly of you?"

"Yes." She licked her dry lips.

"Do you then also recall my response?"

"Yes. You said I was…undeserving of my promotion."

"You went to extraordinary lengths at that point, Lieutenant Mercy, to try and change my opinion. Why is it that you have now chosen to accept it?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead opting to back her gently into her room. "Think on this, Lieutenant. Do not let one misfortune undo everything you've worked for."

His hand lifted, and if it had been anyone else, she would have been sure that he was about to touch her face. Then his hand dropped, and the door slid closed.

As she stared at the cold metal and touched her fingers to her cheek, she realized how much his opinion meant to her.

* * *

><p>Aside from the lack of stuttering and the inability to look anyone in the eye—plus the occasional burst of mindless obedience when ordered by the captain or Spock—to others Celyn was for the most part unchanged.<p>

Kirk hardly noticed a difference, as her attitude now seemed to be largely the same as it was after her rejection. Spock noticed purely for the fact that chess no longer held any interest for her, and McCoy…Well, McCoy was essentially her best friend. Of course he was going to notice.

"C'mere, kid, just one more hypo, then you're good to go." He prepared the injection while Celyn sighed.

"Really, Leonard, my wrist has been out of the cast for nearly three whole days. You can stop worrying so much now." Contrary to her words, her face held a slight smile that showed she liked knowing just how much he cared.

"Has Uhura apologized yet?"

Here, Celyn winced. "Before she even approached me, I told her she didn't need to feel obligated to. She turned right on her heel and left without a word."

"You just must rub her the wrong way, kid. Now, hold still."

She rubbed the injection spot lightly after he was done. "What was in this one? More pain medication?"

"Just your every day inoculations," he said. "Just double checking that you didn't catch any crazy alien diseases. God knows those Klingon prisons can't be the cleanest places in the world."

She gave a half-hearted chuckle at his humor and hopped off the cot. After promising lunch in the mess after her shift, she left, and McCoy watched her retreating back leave his sick bay.

He had lied. It wasn't an inoculation.

Celyn was feeling…the way someone in her position _would _feel, he supposed. It killed him to see her, already so fragile and small, feel so smothered and ruined. He wasn't blind, deaf, or stupid—he knew she'd told Spock about her desire to leave the ship and her job as lieutenant. He knew that the pre-Klingon Celyn would kick herself if the thought of leaving ever occurred to her, but post-Klingon Celyn seemed to have a few wires crossed.

So he had just taken a few measures to get her feeling back like herself again. Some good company, some encouragement, a few doses of anti-depressant, and she'd be right back to normal…though hopefully still without the stuttering.

* * *

><p>"Here. It is my sincere hope that this assist you."<p>

Celyn blinked at the little wooden box in Spock's hand. "Assist me in…what?"

"Healing, Lieutenant. Open it."

She looked at the box he held, tracing her fingers lightly over the ornate carvings on the lid. The lid swung up on delicate hinges, and once upright, a soothing sound began to play.

"A music box?" she asked.

"Listen closely. Do you not recognize the tune?"

It was her—her grandmother's—Spock's—lullaby. The lullaby.

"You're playing it, aren't you?" The sound was identical to the sound Spock's Vulcan lute had made in his quarters when she had sung with him.

"I had purchased the box a while back, planning to give it to my mother." Her eyes flashed with sympathy—his mother had died with his home planet. "It took little work to convert it into a music box using a recording of myself playing the lullaby. I knew you were in need of comfort following your traumatic experience."

Her heart fluttered for no real reason. She nearly frowned at herself, but instead gave Spock a small, genuinely thankful smile. "Did Leonard tell you?"

"I merely observed, Lieutenant."

"And you want me at peak mental health on the bridge, I assume?"

Spock seemed confused at her question when he answered, "Affirmative, Lieutenant, but that is not the reason I present you with this box. I am simply aware you are going through a trying time and have little support. If I may be so bold, I also volunteer myself for counsel should you ever need it." He straightened his shoulders. "Uhura tells me I'm quite a good listener. Also, I'm familiar with the Terran concept of present-giving, and you will be happy to know that this should suffice in return since you presented me with the chess set."

"Thank you, Commander." She took the box from him gently, her fingers brushing his.

_I don't want your pity. Oh God, how pathetic must I be to warrant your pity. Please, Spock, oh please, do anything, anything—just don't pity me._

Just as she walked away, she swore she thought she heard him say: "I would never pity you, Celyn."

* * *

><p>It must have been her imagination. After all, Spock had never said her first name.<p>

"That's…actually, that's a bit out of character." McCoy blinked in surprise as he watched Celyn gaze with a rather starry-eyed look at the music box. "It's un-hobgoblin-like."

"It's nice, though, isn't it?" She sounded unsure, as if she needed his approval before she could appreciate the gift. Who knows, in her current state she probably felt like she did.

"Yes, Celyn, it's nice. Do you feel better now?"

She put her chin in her hand and lifted the lid of her music box. As the music filtered out, she gave a small smile. "Yes. I do."

He wondered briefly if it was from Spock's present or the anti-depressants, but he decided it was better not to try and guess. "Feel like lunch, kid?"

She nodded and followed him to the mess. For a few minutes, she actually went so far as to laugh at one of his jokes. Then, however, they passed Uhura, who was muttering to a female Yeoman…

"…thinks she's special just because she's got McCoy wrapped around her finger…"

The Yeoman responded with, "_I _heard she thinks she actually has a chance with the captain…"

The two woman caught Celyn's eye, and Uhura lifted her chin while the Yeoman giggled. Celyn's face burned hotly as she dropped her face and gravitated unconsciously closer to McCoy. He hadn't noticed the gossip, but he didn't need to hear what they'd said to see the way her shoulders slumped.

_Damn…_

* * *

><p>AN: so basically she was beaten to obedience. and now she doesn't want to try, doesn't want to be on the ship, and Uhura is being catty. uh oh.

**review **to find out if it's Spock, McCoy, Jim, or herself who convinces Celyn to stay. or if she gets convinced at all._  
><em>


	7. Inner Desires

A/N: for those who get confused, all will be explained. for those who've been asking for more Spock/Celyn-ness, merry christmas.

i listened to "The Dark Wood of Error" by Alesana while writing the ballroom scenes.

* * *

><p><em>The heat in her room was sweltering. She had pulled up her hair, dressed in the least amount of loose clothing. She was, for some reason, meditating. Her eyes were closed, but she could smell the lit candles.<em>

_A hand brushed her sweat-drenched bangs off of her forehead, flitting against her hot skin. The hand tugged her hair out of the ponytail, and then moved down to her shoulders. Another joined it, gently pulling down the straps of her camisole. The shirt was lifted away from her, but she felt no panic, even as the hands nudged her onto her back and a body laid on top of her. No panic, no worry, just an odd sense of calm and…anticipation._

_Warm lips softly brushed against her eyelids, and a deep voice murmured, "T'hy'la."_

Celyn bolted upright in bed. Her face burned with a combination of heat, embarrassment and…desire? She shook her head fiercely, tangling her hands in her hair and squeezing her eyes shut. _Why? Why him? Why did my dream have to be about him?_

She couldn't tell McCoy about this, she just couldn't.

_He saved you, _said a voice in her head. _It's only natural that some kind of feeling stem from that…_

_But why? Why do I have to feel this for someone who will never…_

She stopped the thoughts there. Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe she was just dreaming. Just a dream. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all.

She rolled over onto her side and lifted the lid of the music box before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

><p>The dreams continued every night for almost a week. She felt like she was going insane. Her mind was just torturing her. It didn't help that, as a result, she was hyper-aware of his presence. Almost as soon as he walked into a room, she noticed. The atmosphere of the room would change, her chest would tighten—<em>Like it had with the captain, except…<em>

Except this was more intense than the captain…and it frightened her.

Wasn't this kind of thing supposed to be gradual? Supposed to creep up on her? It wasn't supposed to suddenly hit her like a brick wall!

She forced herself into denial. It was easier to ignore it than confront it, especially with someone like Spock.

She went through short bouts of depression that, Leonard assured her, were completely typical for her situation. Post-traumatic stress. Those bouts would end, however, shortly after she visited him to talk about them, and it didn't take her long to realize the doctor had been giving her hypos not of vaccines but of anti-depressants. She kept quiet about it thought, mainly because they helped, and because the doctor needed to help her almost as much as she needed help.

* * *

><p>"You know," said Kirk smiling, "I always wonder what she thinks about when she zones off like that."<p>

Celyn blinked away the slight fog over her eyes. "Sorry, Captain. I'm just tired."

She sat next to McCoy at a table in the mess, with Scotty and Kirk seated across from her. She'd never really befriended Scotty, but he was nice enough to her for the sake of McCoy.

"Not sleeping well?" asked McCoy. His face was screwed slightly in concern.

"Just inconsistently," she said. She paused for a moment and then added, "Nightmares."

Not a complete lie, she supposed.

"You just get this look about you." Kirk eyed her. "Secretive. Like you're thinking about something the rest of us shouldn't know."

"It's not conscious, Captain," she insisted.

He shrugged and then added, "Sulu mentioned you haven't gone back to training with him."

"I've…just been tired, Captain."

McCoy glanced sideways at the girl. She had dark half moons under her eyes that confirmed her lack of sleep, but he knew that following her rescue she had lost all interest in activities aboard the ship. She spent most of her time holed up in her room. He could only assume she'd reverted back to her favorite introverted pastime—reading—instead of opting for the activities that put her in front of people. This included training with Sulu, chess with Spock, and anything remotely social.

Only when he dragged her to lunch did she speak to anyone besides him.

It didn't help that Uhura was determined the drag the girl down. The lieutenant had spread every rumor she could aboard the ship, and Celyn had heard them all. It remained incredibly frustrating to McCoy that Celyn held no animosity towards Uhura, but then again, animosity wasn't really in her nature. He still found it a bit hard to believe that the dark-haired lieutenant could be so purposely cruel to the girl who had saved her life…not that Nyota thought of it that way anyway.

Not every woman on the ship hated Celyn—there were those few motherly types who heard the rumors and scolded Uhura for spreading them—and most just didn't care. Uhura and Nurse Chapel were the extreme ends of the spectrum, but nevertheless McCoy knew how it discouraged Celyn from approaching the women of the ship. She had always found men much more genial, and now she basically just clung to McCoy's side like a lifeline.

It was like having a daughter.

Suddenly, Celyn's whole body tensed. McCoy shot her a look of confusion, but before he could ask her about it, Kirk perked up and called out, "Hey, Spock!"

He waved the half-Vulcan over just as Scotty moved over on the bench to make some room, grumbling slightly.

Celyn worked very hard to relax as Spock took a seat. She carefully focused on un-tensing her muscles, rolling her shoulders back slowly until she felt less like a coiled spring. Then, once she was sure she was calm, she stood up and said, "I'm not feeling that well. I think I'll lay down before my shift starts."

McCoy frowned. "What is it, your stomach?" _Could be a side-effect from the anti-depressants, _he thought.

"Just a slight headache." She gave a soft, forced smile. "Don't worry about me, Leonard."

She meant that sincerely. She didn't want him to worry too much about her. He'd get himself sick.

Spock watched her leave. Once she had vanished from the mess, he sipped his mug of tea and mentioned casually, "Doctor, it seems your advice was unsuccessful."

The doctor lifted his eyebrows. "'scuse me?"

"I did as your instructions implied, and I am quite unsatisfied with the results—"

"I don't know what in hell you're talking about."

"I asked, if you recall, what I should do following Mercy's return. Your exact words were, 'She just needs comfort right now, Commander'."

The men at the table were staring at the half-Vulcan. Why would Spock be concerned with what to do after bringing Celyn back? He couldn't possibly be worried about her. He was…_Spock._

"Okay…" said McCoy slowly. "Do you remember what I said immediately after that?"

Spock frowned, and the doctor continued, "I said, 'I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't think you're the one to comfort her. Just don't say anything offensive for a while."

"I…apologize," muttered Spock. "It appears I did not hear that."

McCoy groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "What'd you say to her?"

"Nothing offensive, I assure you. I gave her a music box and offered myself should she ever need counsel."

_Spock did WHAT?_

"Who are you and what have you done with Jim's pointy-eared bastard of a first officer?" McCoy asked.

"Ignoring that highly illogical comment, Doctor, it seems that Mercy has been avoiding me. She seemed genuinely pleased at my gift, but we have since not conversed. She has also lost interest in our chess games, which I find mildly disappointing. Have I done something wrong?"

Jim was hunched over, laughing, and Scotty just looked uncomfortable. McCoy was rubbing his temples. "Why does no one listen to me? No one ever listens to me. I say to leave her alone, she needs space and time, and no one listens. Of all the people I thought would leave her well enough alone—"

"Doctor McCoy, I request to know what I have done to offend Mercy and how I shall go about resolving it."

"No." McCoy pointed a finger. "You stay away from her for a while, you hear me?"

* * *

><p>Celyn paced the length of her room, chewing on her thumbnail and struggling to regulate her breathing. She was just tired. That was all. There was no reason for her reaction to Spock's entrance into the room. She just needed sleep.<p>

Sleep.

* * *

><p><em>She was somewhere completely different now. No longer was she on the ship. She instead was in a large, golden lit ballroom. <em>

How did I…get here…

_A piano played a slightly melancholy tune. Couples danced around her gracefully, no one she recognized—but there, on the opposite side of the room, stood a dark-haired man in a mask._

What's going on? Why am I dreaming about this?

_Her ability to think outside of the dream stopped there. The man stepped toward her, and she toward him, until they met in the center of the dance floor. He lifted his hand, pressing his palm flat to hers, and the music played in time with her heartbeat._

_He swept her around, her dress swirling about her feet. She ached for him to speak, for him to touch her more than just the simple contact of their hands._

_It was impossible. Nothing more would happen. Just hoping for more hurt so much._

_The music invaded her veins, transformed, and now it seemed the other dancers were singing, centering their dance around her and her partner._

_Right when she thought she would burst from wanting, his other hand circled behind her and kept a firm hold on her waist. A small part of her pain ceased at that touch, but it wasn't enough._

"_Spock…" she whispered, staring up at deep brown eyes. "Please, I—"_

"Celyn!" Someone rapped at her door. "Hey, Celyn, come on. You okay, kid?"

Celyn gasped, torn from her dream, and her face burned with an inner fire. She straightened her clothing, threw up her hair, and sprang to the door. "Leonard! What's wrong?"

The door opened to reveal a concerned-looking doctor, but whatever he'd been about to say froze in his throat as he took in her appearance. "You okay, kid?" he repeated.

"I'm fine." She cleared her throat. "Why?"

"You're breathing unevenly. You sure you're alright?"

"Just a…nightmare."

He didn't seem as though he believed her, but he spoke no more on the matter. "Alright. I was just worried about you. Your shift started half an hour ago, and I figured I'd come look for you instead of having the hobgoblin track you down."

* * *

><p>McCoy trudged back to sickbay, rubbing his forehead. That kid was going to be the death of him…When she hadn't shown up for her shift, he'd been a little worried. When she hadn't answered her door, he'd been hella worried.<p>

"Doctor McCoy?" came a young male voice from his communicator.

McCoy frowned. "Yes?"

"It's Lieutenant Commander Scott! Something's wrong—"

* * *

><p>Celyn again solved her problem by ignoring it. She didn't look at Spock, didn't think about Spock, and listened to Spock only when he gave some kind of command.<p>

_My mind's just playing tricks on me,_ she thought. _I haven't recovered from the Klingons' treatment of me._

She was crazy for even considering…

"Are you well, Lieutenant?"

She inhaled sharply. "Yes, Commander Spock. I'm…well."

"You do not seem well. Perhaps a visit to Doctor McCoy in the sickbay would be beneficial."

She resisted the urge to look at him, knowing if she saw those chocolate-colored eyes her sanity would crumble to nothing. She got up slowly, getting a look of concern from Sulu, and then left.

She swayed slightly on her feet as she made the trek to sickbay. Once she stepped in the door, however, she heard a curt female voice snap, "Not now, Mercy."

Nurse Chapel sent her a quick glare, to which McCoy sighed heavily. "C'mon, be nice. What did you need, Celyn?"

"I…Commander Spock…" Celyn looked past the doctor to the man lying motionless on a cot. "Lieutenant Commander Scott?"

"We found him in a coma," said McCoy. "No idea what's wrong yet. We have to do more scans. What's the matter, kid?"

"Commander Spock sent me, but I…" She shook her head. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm sorry for intruding."

She went back to the bridge, but noticed Sulu was gone. At her frown of confusion, Pavel Chekov said, "He was feeling very sleepy. The commander had him replaced." Chekov gave a small smile. "I told him he's been working too hard."

Celyn frowned more. _He seemed perfectly fine just a few moments ago…_Chekov was right though. Sulu had a habit of working too much.

Perhaps she would check on him after her shift, just make sure he was alright. After all, he had been nothing but nice to her during the whole of their acquaintance.

Her mine made up, after her shift and a brief consultation with the computer regarding location, Celyn made her way to Sulu's quarters. She knocked on the door, growing slightly concerned when he didn't answer.

"Lieutenant Sulu?"

No response.

"Sulu, are you okay?"

She didn't want to do this, but…She punched in the code on the PADD (?) next to his door, and it whooshed open. "Sulu?" She stepped into his quarters, checking for him. There he was, lying across his couch asleep. She breathed a slow sigh of relief.

_You're losing it, Celyn. You just stormed into a guy's room and he was just sleeping._

"Sulu, you scared me," she said quietly. She didn't want to wake him, though, so maybe she should just…

But there was something unnatural about the way he was sleeping. She approached him slowly, put her hand on his arm and lightly shook him. "Sulu?"

His head lolled with the gentle shaking, but he didn't wake. She shook him again, a little harder this time, but still nothing. His eyes remained closed. Her fingers fumbled to her comm.

"Leonard? Leonard, have you figured out what's wrong with Lieutenant Commander Scott?"

After a few seconds, McCoy's voice crackled back, "No, it's still pretty much a mystery. Why?"

"There's something wrong with Lieutenant Sulu."

* * *

><p>"Two men in comas, no idea what's causing it, that's just lovely," muttered McCoy, scowling. "Their scans are complete normal, all vital signs fine, there is no reason that completely healthy men should be in comas!"<p>

"Chekov said Sulu was getting tired on the bridge, so Spock sent him to rest…"

McCoy grunted once. "Oddly forgiving now, isn't he? I don't know what's gotten into him lately. This has me worried though. How have those nightmares been, kid? You sleeping alright?"

"I'm fine." _I'm actually getting a little sick of saying that…_

"Well, I'm not taking any chances. If you feel drowsy for no reason at all, you tell me immediately, alright? Even if you think it's nothing."

She gave him a smile, and he squeezed her arm. "Are they going to be okay?" she asked, looking at Sulu.

"We'll figure it out, don't worry."

Celyn turned around the corner just out of the sickbay and nearly ran headlong into the _Enterprise_'sfirst officer. She practically hopped backwards to avoid slamming into him.

"Ah, Lieutenant Mercy, I see you've been to the sickbay. What's the doctor's progress?"

"I'm not comfortable saying, Commander." She clasped her trembling hands in front of her. "Why don't you ask him?"

She pushed past him, fleeing before more could be said.

* * *

><p><em>He danced with her slowly, dragging it out, torturing her. At least, that was the way it seemed to her. She looked around the room, at each of the masquerading dancers, anywhere but him…but no matter what she tried, her eyes inevitably landed back on his. He didn't speak a word.<em>

_His arm was now wrapped tightly around her waist, his hand clutching hers tightly, and the sensations forced the breath from her lungs._

_Not enough. Never enough._

"_Spock…"_

_A small curving of his lips were her only response. She let her head fall forward and touch his chest, but the moment she did, the dancing stopped._

"_No." No, no, no, no—_

She threw her covers off of her, and they floated to the floor. Grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled harshly. This needed to stop. These stupid dreams needed to _stop_. She got shakily to her feet, throwing herself into the hallway. She didn't care what she looked like, she didn't care who saw her. She just wanted to stop feeling like this.

_Maybe Leonard has something. Something he can give me._

The world pitched, and her vision blurred, and she was suddenly thrust back into the golden ballroom.

_What? What's going on?_

_He was back, circling around her slowly in time with the music._

_No, no, I need to talk to Leonard._

"_Stay," came a voice. It wasn't Spock's, nor hers—it was much harsher, sharper. "You want to stay."_

_No, no I don't. I want this to stop._

"_You don't want it to stop. This is what you want, Celyn. This has always been what you want."_

_No, it isn't! _

_She covered her face with her hands. "Stop it! Stop confusing me!"_

"_There's nothing confusing about it, Celyn. I know what you want. You can't hide it. I'm in your subconscious, Celyn."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_All in good time, Celyn. Why don't you enjoy? Enjoy what I'm giving you. Your friends enjoyed."_

"_My…friends?"_

"_Oh yes."_

_Celyn spun in a circle, desperately looking at the people around her, trying to search underneath the masks. Spock, dressed as a gentlemen, removed his mask slowly and let it clatter to the floor._

"_Why can't you just appreciate it, Celyn? It's exactly what you want. It's all here in your mind."_

_There was a marble staircase leading up to a raised balcony of sorts overlooking the ballroom, and there on that balcony, stood a tall masked man with one hand on his hip. He tilted his head back and laughed, a loud booming laugh that made her skin crawl._

"_Perhaps you think you want something different?" said the man. "A different gift, is that it, Celyn?"_

_She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see the rigid, stoic Spock transform into the charming, blue-eyed form of Jim Kirk._

"_That's not fair," she whispered._

"_Is he what you think you want, Celyn?" The voice was smug. "Here you are. Have him."_

_Jim took her hand, kissed it, and Celyn felt the familiar thrill that she received every time he acknowledged her. She backed away from him, her face a bright red._

"_Or perhaps an alternate setting?"_

_She was now in a large, old Victorian-style bedroom. She gave a small scream, hands fluttering in an attempt to cover herself as she realized she was unclothed. The man now stood in the corner of the room, watching with a sadistic grin. Jim stood at the foot of the bed, just looking at her, and she screamed again and buried her head in her hands to hide her eyes._

"_Captain!"_

_He crawled onto the bed towards her and she scrambled backwards, a look of panic on her face._

"_Stop it! Captain, no!"_

"_Oh?" said the man, raising his eyebrows. "You don't want him? Would you prefer something more like…this?"_

_The lights dimmed, and Jim was replaced with Spock. She continuously shook her head, but she could no longer back away, as she was now pressed against the headboard. Spock was looking at her with a predatory gleam._

"_No," she breathed._

"_A bit gentler, then?"_

_Spock's expression evened out to one of love, and she felt her heart stutter._

"_Oh, that's it then, isn't it?" The man laughed again. "Do you see now, Celyn? Do you see? This is what you really want."_

"Lieutenant Mercy."

With a gasp and a wrenching sob, she was ripped back to reality. Spock, the real Spock, had a firm grip on her sleeved shoulder, steadying her. His eyes bored into her face.

"Lieutenant Mercy, what has upset you?"

She wiped at her face, breathing erratic, and covered her mouth to stem further sobs. _Safe, safe, I'm safe. _"Leonard, I need—I need to talk to Leonard, I think I know what's wrong with Sulu and Lieutenant Scott and—"

She bolted from Spock's grasp, settling into a run towards the sick bay. "Leonard! Leonard I think I know—"

Celyn froze in the doorway of the sickbay. Nurse Chapel glared at her and spat something hurtful, but Celyn didn't hear her. Her gaze was riveted on the two new people in cots: Leonard McCoy and Jim Kirk.

"No." She seemed to be saying that a lot in the past few hours. "Leonard, Leonard, wake up, please."

"_They won't wake up, Celyn. They like what I gave them."_

Spock came up behind her; she felt his warmth. "Lieutenant…I thought someone had told you."

"Told me?" she repeated weakly. "Nobody told me."

"Why was it so urgent you speak with Doctor McCoy?"

Spock's voice was surprisingly gentle. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was treading carefully in light of the fact that her best friend was now mysteriously comatose.

"I might have figured out what's going on." Her voice cracked, and she explained it all to Spock, who to his credit listened attentively.

When she was finished, he nodded languidly and said, "I suppose if what you say is accurate that it's possible for those closest to you to receive a psychic connection through which this is possible. I was not aware that you and Lieutenant Commander Scott were such close friends."

"We're not. I…sit with him in the mess because he and Leonard are friends."

"I see. If this is the case, the problems stem with whatever is in your subconscious. I cannot see a logical way to resolve this, Mercy."

Celyn bit her lip. Nurse Chapel sent another look of disgust her way and said, "If you're done being in the way, I have patients to take care of—"

"Nurse Chapel, I'm afraid we'll have to borrow a cot for a little while," Celyn interrupted softly.

Chapel puffed up, indignant, but before she could outright refuse, Spock asked, "What are you planning, Lieutenant?"

She breathed deep, clenching her shaking hands into fists, and said, "I want you to meld with me, Spock."

"Lieutenant, that is highly illogical—"

"It's in my mind, Commander, please. To save Leonard and the captain, Sulu, Scott—Please. You can enter my mind and find it." She knew that she was pleading with him. She knew how pathetic and desperate she must sound, but at that moment she didn't care. She didn't want to lose them, not now, not after everything. She licked her lips. "Please."

"Nurse Chapel." Spock's gaze lifted from the girl to the harried nurse. "It seems we are indeed in need of a bed."

* * *

><p>"Nurse Chapel will be monitoring your vital signs closely," said Spock as Celyn laid herself down on the bed.<p>

She looked up at him, uncertain, and whispered, "How…How do you want me?"

For some reason she felt the question seemed oddly…intimate, but it must have been her imagination that his cheeks tinged slightly darker green. "However you are most comfortable, Lieutenant."

She settled on her back, arms flat out at her sides, and she grasped a handful of sheets in fearful anticipation. How would it feel to have the half-Vulcan in her mind? She shivered slightly.

"Are you cold, Lieutenant?"

"I'm fine," she replied quietly.

He frowned but didn't press further, opting instead to say, "It's in your best interest if you relax, Mercy. I promise I will not harm you."

It wasn't his words so much as his tone that soothed her, and she tried her best to remain completely relaxed even when she felt his fingers press tenderly against the meld points on her face.

Suddenly, his voice was in her head. _I will see everything, Mercy. You must understand that. Once you submit yourself to this, there is no turning back. If you attempt to pull away from the meld early, without warning me, it could hurt you. You must be aware that you will have to give your mind wholly to me for the duration of the meld._

"I understand."

_Do not talk, Mercy. Relax. Allow me in._

With an abrupt sense of intrusion, he was there in her mind, his thoughts combining seamlessly with hers until she could no longer be sure who was thinking what. It was a strange, wonderful feeling, being joined with another person, being more whole than ever before in her life—

_Celyn, Celyn, you can't allow yourself to be overwhelmed. You have to focus, or you will lose yourself in this._

She tried, she tried so hard, just because he'd said her name, her first name, and there was a chain of thought—Did it belong to her or him?—that read, _Notready notprepared more preparation needed before a mindmeld recklessreckless dangerous._

_Necessary, _she countered suddenly. _Necessary._

He was transported, placed in the center of a large ballroom. Unlike before, what he gathered that Celyn remembered, there were no dancers, no music. No Celyn.

He walked up the marble staircase, through the grand set of doors, and found himself in a hallway. "Lieutenant Mercy," he called out. Nothing. He searched for her presence, found it weak and strained, and headed in that direction.

The hallway was lined with doors, ranging in style and decoration, with some more ornate than others. He opened each door with care, making sure not to pry too far into her private thoughts.

One of the doors he opened stored all her memories of Captain Kirk. Spock was hit with the wave of admiration and childlike respect, and his fists clenched on impulse. He closed it rather quickly, slamming it louder than the others.

There, at the end of the hall, was the fanciest of the doors, and he turned the knob slowly.

Inside the room was a heat that, while relaxing for him, must have been stifling for any human. The lighting was muted, and there was a large four-poster bed, on which lay a very-naked Lieutenant Mercy with a man who looked strangely familiar…

What was going on?

"I see you've found us," said a voice Spock didn't recognize. He turned his head to see a man, tall and imposing, standing in the corner of the room with an amused sneer in place. "Come in, come in. Enjoy the show, Commander."

"Show?" posed Spock quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "Why is an entity where it does not belong?"

"Celyn's mind is my playground, my home." The man opened his arms. "I am no parasite. I bring nothing but gifts, Commander. Do you not see? I have presented Celyn with exactly what she wants."

Spock's eyes were drawn back to the bed. Celyn and the man were kissing, Celyn's face relaxed into an expression of bliss, and Spock's hands clenched again.

"She resisted at first, silly girl, but with you here occupying her mind as well, her struggling has ceased. I know best, and now she sees that. The same way the others saw it."

"Others?"

"Her friends, the others aboard _Enterprise_ who have accepted my gifts." The man laughed. "Now Celyn has finally given in to her inner desires. Look again at her, Commander Spock, and tell me what you see. You really don't want to miss this."

She knew this was wrong. It was so wrong. But it wouldn't stop, and she didn't have the energy to push him away.

_The real Spock wouldn't do this, _she insisted. _He wouldn't_.

"Does it matter?" said the man. "You want him to, you want the real him to do this, and that's what matters, Celyn."

Despite the certainty that this was wrong, that she shouldn't be allowing this, her hands roamed the body of the half-Vulcan illusion above her. He held her close, lips scorching, every touch making her heart stop beating, and it was wrong, so wrong, this isn't what she wanted. This was a perverse twist of what she wanted.

"Don't lie to yourself, Celyn. See how you enjoy his touch?"

For a few moments, it had seemed like the man was speaking to someone else. But she hadn't heard anyone respond, and she could see nothing past Spock's brown eyes locked onto hers, lust swirling in dark nearly-black spirals, and—

His hands were everywhere, his lips were everywhere, and she knew where this was headed, and she felt as though she could just slip into all that was Spock, his scent, his eyes, his manner.

But this wasn't Spock. This was a lie. These feelings were a lie. She was being tricked.

"Lieutenant Mercy."

She heard her title and name dimly, but the illusionary Spock dragged her attention back to him with a fierce, devouring kiss—

Then suddenly his voice was all around her, enveloping her, and the illusion began to fade away. _Celyn._

She snapped back to herself. This wasn't real. This was in her mind. Spock, the _real _Spock, the Spock that mattered, was melded with her to save Leonard, the captain. She threw the illusion off of her, sitting upright, and her eyes discerned in the dim light not only the man, but the real Spock.

"No more," she shouted. She jumped off of the bed with the speed of a girl in terror. She was naked, but there was no time, no time to address it or be embarrassed, because the man in the corner was laughing.

"You've ruined my game, you snide, cheeky little bitch."

"Lieutenant Mercy," said Spock. She turned to look at him, but she felt some of her resolve chip away at the cold use of her title. "Celyn."

She let out a short sigh of content. _My first name, my first name._ _Why has it bothered me so much that he has only called me Lieutenant?_

"Celyn, you must push it out of your mind. I can assist, but it must be your desire that it leave."

_I do. I want it to leave_.

"Do you, Celyn? Do you really want me to leave?" The man burst into a smile. "Your conviction isn't strong enough. You have doubts. You know what I can offer you. What I _have _offered you."

"Think about McCoy," said Spock. "The captain. Lieutenant Sulu and Montgomery Scott."

"I don't create lies, Celyn. I make you realize what you really want."

"It's lying to you."

"No, I'm not. I merely enhanced feelings that were already present. Maybe you just hadn't realized you had them yet, but they were there, Celyn. I didn't create them."

_Stop it, stop it, stop. _Celyn covered her ears and curled in on herself.

Spock felt the mind meld connection begin to disintegrate. She was forcing him out, pulling back prematurely, exactly as he had told her not to do.

"Get out," she said suddenly. "Both of you, just g-get out!"

It was the first time since her return that she had stuttered. Spock was wrenched away from her consciousness and, back in reality, sat staring down at the unconscious form of Celyn Mercy.

* * *

><p>"I know what you're thinking," said the man with a smirk. "Who is he? How to get rid of him?"<p>

He circled around her, like a lion stalking prey. There was a rush of air, blurred movement, and Celyn found herself re-dressed.

"Much better, hm?" He reached out to stroke her cheek and she flinched away. "First of all, I don't suppose I have a real name, so you may call me Will. You like that name, don't you, Celyn?"

Bile rose in her throat.

"Secondly, there are several ways to get rid of me. However, your beloved Doctor Leonard McCoy is…unavailable and that takes any medically-related option off the table, doesn't it? Now, you could simply force me out, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a stubborn, resourceful bastard, and that tactic probably won't work. What shall you do, Celyn?" He stopped speaking to laugh boisterously. "Really, Celyn, how do you think this will end?"

"Let's find out," she said quietly.

"How cute. Come on then."

* * *

><p>Spock's unwavering Vulcan gaze stared down at the young lieutenant as her heart rate skyrocketed. The nurse was busy overseeing her other patients, barely inclining her head towards Celyn.<p>

* * *

><p>She was losing. Not terribly, but losing nonetheless.<p>

"Are you quite finished trying to play hero, Celyn?"

She was tired, so very tired. "Release my friends. At least just let them go. I'll stop fighting if you let them go."

"Trying to negotiate now? I've nearly won the battle!"

"No," she yelled suddenly. She had never yelled before, but she was so tired, and so sick of being weak. "Let them go and then…and then…_get the hell out of my head_!"

* * *

><p>"Nurse Chapel," Spock was standing, his chair knocked backwards in his haste. "Lieutenant Mercy is going into cardiac arrest."<p>

"Damn it, Mercy," grumbled Chapel, hurrying over. Despite her comment and known dislike of the girl, however, she looked concerned when Mercy's condition didn't improve.

For a while, there was no sound in the sickbay except for a flatline.

* * *

><p>AN: it's not the end, so don't worry yet! bet you guys are excited when Spock, in his typical awkward-Spock way, decides to talk to her about this...hooo boy.


	8. Logical Request

A/N: Sorry it's so short. I'm getting some writer's block. Plus, since my last update, a very close friend of mine passed away. Needless to say my head hasn't really been in the game. Hope this chapter appeases you!

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><p>When Celyn awoke, the first thing she noticed was that everything hurt. Her entire body was sore. The next thing she noticed was McCoy's voice, and she promptly began to cry.<p>

"Kid! You're awake!"

She clutched onto his hand. "You're okay? You and the captain a-and Sulu—"

"We're all okay, kid." McCoy's smile was wide and relieved. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"Just…tired. What…?"

His eyes were sad for a split second. "You went into cardiac arrest, kid. Chapel and Spock brought you back, but for about thirty seconds, you were gone." He coughed and cleared his throat. "Spock told me it was because of the stress…Can't believe you did that."

"Did…what?" She felt herself frowning. _Can't believe I went into cardiac arrest?_

"Spock told us. You forced that what-ever-it-was out of our heads."

"What-ever-it-was?"

"Scans showed an alien parasite in your brain. Stupid, tricky, psychic little sucker. Don't worry, it's gone now, we got it."

The pure relief that hit her felt like a brick wall. She sobbed softly. _I did it…I did it…_

"I _knew _you'd picked up something funky at that damned Klingon prison!" he said dryly, an attempt at humor. She cracked a small smile in response.

He squeezed her arm, gave her another warm smile, and kissed her forehead. She drifted back to sleep.

* * *

><p>McCoy was muttering something else as Celyn sat up, awake for the second time and feeling much more rested, but she didn't hear him. Her entire focus had narrowed to the man in the sickbay doorway.<p>

"Spock," she breathed.

"Doctor McCoy, how is Lieutenant Mercy doing?"

McCoy grunted at him. "She's doing fine. Much better. Don't go stressing her out, now."

"I merely wish to talk to her. In private." Spock looked to her. "If she will allow."

"What could you possibly have to talk about?"

Celyn had never noticed before how McCoy's accent got worse when he got agitated…

"There are some things that Mercy and I must discuss and…resolve." The look he was giving her made goosebumps break out all over her skin.

Celyn followed him to his quarters, surrounded by an odd haze of pride despite her muscles whining as if she'd just run a marathon. She had never felt proud before. Proud of herself, that is. She was always proud of the captain, always proud of Leonard, never proud of herself.

Now, she was proud.

That didn't mean, however, she wasn't worried about what Spock had to say.

"Thank you," she said, attempting to break the tension. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything without your help."

"My assistance was indeed vital to your success, however, Mercy, I will remind you that you succeeded in my absence. I was not helping you during the moment of your triumph." It seemed to her like he was almost smiling. "You should give yourself some credit, as the captain would say."

Celyn couldn't help smiling. "Yes, sir."

She was less worried when they entered his quarters. From his earlier comments, it seemed he wasn't mad at her, or disappointed. She wondered if she should dare to hope that he was actually proud of her.

"There are some things that I encountered in your mind, Lieutenant that I feel I must…address."

She seated herself on an armchair, sweat beading her brow already. She wasn't dressed properly to be in Spock's room. "Yes?"

"First of all, I find it highly disturbing that you have an entire section in your mind devoted entirely to the captain."

Her face filled with color and she tried something she had never done before—awkwardly, she laughed it off. "I do admire him, Commander."

"And you are indeed confident that your…feelings for him have dissipated?"

"You were in my head, Spock." Her fingers played nervously with the hem of her skirt. _Some things never change_. "Why don't you tell me?"

He stared at her following that response for what felt like an eternity. Time seemed to slow. When he finally said something it was, "Indeed."

She blinked once and then squinted at him. "That doesn't even make sense, Spock."

"Shall we shift topics then?"

"Onto…onto what?"

"The parasite called the…scene I witnessed your inner desires."

Celyn licked her chapped, bitten lips and thought, _Ah, that subject._ "Yes, well. I can't really lie and salvage my dignity when you've been in my mind, huh?"

"I'm not understanding of that statement, Lieutenant, but no, you cannot lie to me on this."

"I told you…before…that you were…are…" She sighed, rubbing her temples with her face burning. She stood awkwardly, fighting the urge to pace. "That you're attractive."

"There are plenty of men on the ship, Lieutenant, who I'm sure are aesthetically pleasing. I, however, was the one in your…fantasy, as it were."

_How to get out of this one, Celyn?_

"What does it matter, Commander Spock?" Her heart thudded in her chest, blood pulsing. "You don't feel anything anyway."

"I am not an android, Mercy. I have emotions, they are merely repressed."

"What does it _matter_?" she stressed quietly.

"It is entirely possible for me to have people I care for. My mother, my father, Captain Kirk, are the ones prevalent in my life. You, Mercy, remind me of my mother."

She stared at him. She had never met Amanda Grayson, but she had heard a fair share of stories. She knew that Amanda had been a human teacher, known for her kindness and gentle nature. Her heart swelled to know that he held her in the same esteem as his mother—who far outweighed Celyn's worth, at least in the young lieutenant's mind.

"I'm touched…"

"You are as compassionate as her, emotional as her. It is not a disadvantage as often as Vulcans would like to claim. You aren't her—you are very much yourself. Softer than her, just as gentle-minded." His hand lifted slightly, ghosted just inches above her shoulder to her chin before dropping away. "Infinitely more fragile."

"Spock, 'fragile' isn't a compliment…"

"My point, Lieutenant, is that I have grown to value your opinion, your input, and ultimately your view of me." The moment nearly took her breath away, and she thought perhaps she was still trapped in her mind until he added, "I do, however, still worry occasionally about your competency behind ship weaponry."

It was such a realistic Spock comment that she nearly laughed. "I may never prove myself to you, Spock."

He raised an infuriating Vulcan eyebrow. "Despite what I have just said, that remains important to you?"

"Yes, it does."

"Then our familiarity as it is now—for it is highly illogical to return to things as they were, especially following a meld—is…not agreeable for you?"

"That's not what I…" Her face flushed again. "I don't expect anything from you—"

"Our working relationship has been altered, along with the creation of a personal relationship, Lieutenant. Created against my better judgment, perhaps, but nonetheless, expect nothing of me but what I give."

"What do you give?" She knitted her brow in confusion, rubbing at a scratch on her hand.

"I give assistance, counsel, comfort, should you ever need it. I give my assurance that you are in no means worthless. Your skill set is simply not traditional."

He backed away from her, and she immediately noticed as his body heat left her vicinity. She found that she missed it.

"You smell like gardenias, Lieutenant."

She blinked slowly. "Oh." _It must be leftover…come to think of it, I haven't showered since before all this nonsense…_

"I take it you like the perfume then?"

This statement gave her pause. "I…How did you know I have gardenia perfume…?"

His shoulders stiffened. "I…have noticed the scent on you in the past."

Celyn's eyes narrowed slightly. "I've only worn it twice before now…when I was with the Captain and when I was with Leonard. I don't like to waste it. You would never have smelled it before. So how did you know that I…"

_There's no way…He wouldn't have…_

"Commander…were you the one who left it for me?"

Spock didn't answer.

"Spock…" Her cheeks flushed. _Oh God, if I'm wrong… _"How did you know…"

He took another step backwards, his piercing eyes examining her. "I noticed on the surface of the agricultural planet that you were fond of the perfume when you repeatedly visited the stand."

"But if you bought it for me, that means it's a present. You despise giving presents, I thought."

"I do not despise it. I merely find it…unnecessary."

"Yet you…bought it anyway?" It wasn't connecting in her brain. "And how did you know green was my favorite color? There was green ribbon wrapped around it."

"I am aware, Lietuenant, as I _was _the one who wrapped it."

"But…_why_?"

"The reason is not important, Lieutenant."

She bit her lip. _It is to me._ She tilted her head upwards to look at him again, and then something occurred to her.

"Commander," she whispered.

"Lieutenant, if you are going to press me further on the perfume, I am inclined to tell you I will not answer—"

"I'm not asking about that."

He nodded, but seemed surprised. "Go on."

"There's something else we haven't addressed."

"Yes?"

"You…When you saved me on the Klingon planet…" Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears, so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. "You bought me. At a slave auction."

"Your point, Mercy?"

"Does that mean that I'm your slave?"

"Lieutenant, we are not on the Klingon planet any longer."

"So you only own me according to Klingon culture?" she asked.

He hesitated. She could see in his eyes, before he'd even said anything, that her assumption was wrong. "The idea of this particular ownership is not limited to Klingon culture."

"You own me, then." The words rolled clumsily out of her mouth. It felt strange to say.

"I do not intend to use you as my slave, Mercy. The crew don't know you were gone, and those who were aware don't know how you were rescued. There is no need for things to be changed."

She exhaled slowly, a small bit of disappointment blending with relief. _Disappointment? What about this is disappointing?_

"However, if you would feel better, I have a request that I have previously feared you would refuse. If you would indeed choose to refuse this, think briefly over the question of ownership, for this request is something I have wished for longer than I am comfortable saying."

A nervous twinge appeared in her stomach. "What is it?"

"If you would." He sat slowly, resting back in the armchair, lithe muscles moving smoothly. She felt the fresh flush of color return to her cheeks as she noticed the way he seemed to move effortlessly. "Would you sing for me?"

"Sing…?"

His dark brown eyes bored into hers, and her skin itched as she wanted to look away but found she couldn't.

"Celyn, would you please sing for me?"

"W-What, what would you have me sing?" Her hands clenched and unclenched timidly.

"The lullaby." His expression was oddly soft, softer than she had ever seen it. "If you will."

"I—" She swallowed. Her throat had gone dry, and suddenly she was sure that if she opened her mouth to sing no sound would come out. She would look like an idiot. "I don't think I can."

"I request you think it over. The previous time has not appeased me. I would like to hear you sing it again."

"I can't sing in f-front of people, I—" Her eyes were wide with a sudden fear. "I have to go."

* * *

><p>McCoy watched her pace the length of his sick bay, unable to settle on a facial expression that fit what he was feeling. He started off worried, switched to amused, then bemused, and then started the whole rotation over again. "His request was that you sing?"<p>

"Well…yes." She wrung her hands together.

"That doesn't sound quite so unreasonable, kid. I've never heard you sing before, but Spock helped out a lot. It shouldn't be a big deal, right?"

She stopped pacing for a moment and stared at him.

"What? Kid, what?"

"You sounded like him. So _logical_." She threw up her arms, distraught. "I can't just go to him and say, 'Yeah, okay, I changed my mind'. That's like…"

"Crawling back with your tail between your legs?"

Her cheeks flushed red but she nodded.

"Why don't you do something bigger then?"

"Bigger?"

He smiled slightly and said, "Sing for him, but not just _for him_."

Celyn's eyes went wide with fear. _Oh no, no, no, no. _"Leonard, you're not serious."

"C'mon, kid. It won't be that bad."

But it would be that bad, Celyn was sure of it. She'd start to stutter, her voice would come out as a squeak, the whole ship would know about her failure and embarrassment in a matter of hours—

"Think about it this way, Celyn. You singing is what he requested, right?"

"Yes."

Leonard nodded, a slight smile on his face, as if he knew something she didn't. "You care about his opinion of you, right?"

"…Yes."

"Singing for him would increase his opinion of you, wouldn't it?"

Celyn's lips pressed in a small, thin line. Her pacing ceased abruptly and she muttered, flushed, "Stop being reasonable."

McCoy tilted back his head and laughed.

* * *

><p>AN: if the last section seemed a little rushed, i apologize. i meant it to be like that haha. i'll update again soon. **review please **as always.


	9. Necessary Paperwork

A/N: these have been getting steadily shorter...i am so sorry O_o hopefully this still has the emotion my previous chapters have had.

* * *

><p>She wasn't avoiding. No, really, she wasn't. She'd been practicing her singing, in front of a mirror, in the shower, visualizing herself singing in front of someone else. The fact was, every time she thought about singing for Spock, her heart palpitated. It soon became that she wasn't sure if the reason was the act of singing, or the man himself.<p>

McCoy encouraged her when he could, but it really came down to something she had to do herself. She was still prepared, fully prepared, to chicken out at any moment.

Then, one morning a week or so afterwards, Celyn woke late with sudden gusto. _Today, _she thought. _I'll sing for him today._

"Computer, locate Commander Spock."

"Commander Spock is in the mess," the computer responded, and Celyn's cheeks warmed.

_I can still do this._

She just had to pretend, when she saw him, that there were no other people. Just Spock. She'd sung with him before, hadn't she?

Celyn left her room at a fast-paced walk, almost a run, and headed for the mess.

* * *

><p>Spock stared with an almost incredulous fascination at the young woman who stomped up to him in the middle of the mess. Conversation at his table, which consisted of Kirk and Scotty, had abruptly ceased. Celyn wore a fierce expression, something he had never seen on the woman, and it rather suited her.<p>

"After everything that's happened and everything you've done for me," she began, "I feel like singing is the least I can do to repay."

"I don't require—"

"I don't care."

Kirk, who had been slowly lifting a mug of water to his lips, suddenly choked. It took all of Spock's emotional control to keep his expression stagnant, to not show the young woman just how much she was surprising him.

"I-I mean…" Her face erupted in color. "Just…It took a lot on convincing to make myself do this so just be quiet and let me." After a brief hesitation, she added, "Please."

_There's no one else around, Celyn. You can do this._

She opened her mouth and began to sing. Spock's gaze on her was unending, and she felt like his eyes were slowly peeling away every layer of shit that had happened to her, ridding her of the outside exterior of false confidence. He knew how this terrified her, but in his eyes she could see—at least, she hoped—that he was impressed.

When she was finished, someone began clapping, and then the mess was applauding.

"I didn't know you could sing, Mercy!" exclaimed Kirk. He stood, clapping a firm hand on her shoulder and giving her a smile. "Brave, too, to do it here. Gutsy. Didn't know you had it in you!"

"Thanks," she mumbled, her gaze on Spock.

The stoic half-Vulcan rose from his seat with his usual grace. "Lieutenant." His voice sounded oddly strained. "I wish to see you in my quarters immediately."

Suddenly his hand was around her wrist and he was nearly pulling her out of the mess, to many a surprised eye, and Celyn had the strange feeling like she'd done something wrong.

When they reached his quarters, she stumbled in behind him and asked weakly, "Did you not enjoy…"

"That was a very rash thing, Lieutenant." He was facing away from her, and she felt cold at his words. "My request was meant to be fulfilled in a private setting."

"Oh. I didn't know." She looked down to the floor. She had felt so proud. Really, when had she ever done anything in public! "I'm sorry, I was just…"

"I understand what you were trying to do." He finally turned to her, and there was something in his eyes, the way he looked at her, that was decidedly _not_ emotionless. "I recognize how difficult it must have been to brave a crowd in such a way. However…" Spock paused. "May I meld with you?"

She blinked once, twice, and felt a small flutter in her chest.

He was inside of her mind, and she gasped as she felt his presence. Then suddenly, it was as if the floodgates opened. She felt his reaction to her throughout their acquaintance—when she had first been promoted, he had noticed her immediately and dismissed her. She flinched instinctively and was immediately hit with a wave of apology from him. The memories returned. When she knocked into him on Andoria during a covert mission to stop the rebels, she felt his annoyance and also his intrigue at the captain's choice of bringing her. When she got hit by a phaser blast, she felt his concern. As he led her through his memories and she witnessed everything he had felt, she was almost overwhelmed by his presence within her, and she knew that he was seeing everything in her mind as well.

Everything he'd ever tried to repress, she felt it.

She felt his sudden, abrupt explosion of anger as he sifted through her numerous thoughts of the captain. Anger and—

_Jealousy, Spock?_

He pulled back with a painful wrench, breathing heavily. She realized she was as well, chest heaving up and down. His emotions and thoughts still lingered within her mind, and her heart thudded loudly. She took quick, gasping breaths, trying desperately to calm herself down, but she couldn't.

"What does it mean?" she whispered.

"Why do you so admire the captain?"

He had heard her, she knew he had heard her, so why didn't he answer?

"He's…"

"Why is he the object of your affection?"

Her cheeks flushed and she protested, "He's not."

"Your memories say otherwise."

"He's kind and brave and intelligent," she said slowly. "He paid attention to me, he…cared for me."

"There are others who care for you, Lieutenant." His expression was inscrutable. "Doctor McCoy, of course. And I informed you that I also find myself concerned with your well-being."

Her nose wrinkled of its own accord. "I can't ever imagine having feelings for McCoy. With you, I thought…"

He knew exactly what she had thought. "You believed me to be indifferent as to the nature of our acquaintance."

She bit her lip and nodded. "I feel like I'm not good enough. For this job, for Starfleet, for you. You never gave me any sign to think that you would ever recognize me. Ever since our first chess game, that has been what I wanted."

"You wanted the captain to acknowledge you."

"Yes…You as well." She hesitated. _How honest can I be with him now? _"But you never…In human culture, it is typical to speak fondly to someone you care about or to touch their hand—"

His gaze narrowed. "I don't touch you because Vulcans are touch telepaths, if you have forgotten. I could not stand being struck with your strong feelings of adoration and admiration towards me. Your emotions are…overwhelming, Lieutenant."

"I…" She could feel the burn on her face. _Adoration? Is that really how I think of him? I could just fall into the floor right now_. "Then why—during the meld, I felt—"

"You're not doubt asking about my jealousy toward the Captain with regards to you."

"_Yes_." She stressed. "I don't understand."

"Then allow me to make it clearer for you." His voice was strangely harsh, clearly struggling to hold back emotion, and in a flurry his fingers were back on her face and the mind meld occurred again, much less controlled.

The air vanished from her lungs as the memory transfer from before was replaced by raw emotion.

_Hurthurthurt, so much hurt, you and the captain, my friend, captain, jealous, don't think that way about him, don't don't. My fault, didn't show you soon enough, beautifulbeautifulbeautiful, soft, delicate, oh so fragile, would only break you, nonono, could never hurt you, precious—_

She inhaled quickly as if she'd been drowning. "But, I don't—"

"You have always mattered, Celyn. I don't know how else to make you see."

"But you're Vulcan, how can you—"

"I am half human," he corrected, amusement briefly flashing in his eyes. "If you recall, I pursued a romantic relationship with Uhura, therefore it is entirely possible for me to—" He stopped. "Lieutenant, what are you—"

For Celyn had been slowly reaching up on her tiptoes. She knew how to do this, didn't she? She'd done it before…not quite like this, but still. What did she have left to lose? He had already been in her mind, already seen her thoughts, and this wouldn't be the last embarrassing thing she was guaranteed to do…

"Spock," she said quietly. "If this isn't what you want, please don't hate me."

Softly, her lips brushed his. She had kissed him. There was no going back now.

"Lieutenant."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't call me by my title. Please?"

"Celyn…"

She stepped back from him. His gaze followed her, and though he said nothing, his face showed a gentleness and reverence that had never been there before. As she watched, however, he slowly picked up the pieces of his Vulcan mask and replaced them.

"I…have to go," she said, taking another step away.

"We should discuss this development, Celyn," he said.

"No, really, I can't, not right now." She tried for a smile and failed, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. "You can reject me later, okay?"

She turned away, one hand reaching out to the pad next to the door, when she felt his presence directly behind her. His large hand covered hers, drawing it to her chest, and his other hesitated only a moment before resting on her hip.

"I find it highly unlikely that you really believe this to be a rejection."

His breath tickled her ear, and goosebumps formed on her skin.

"I-I have to think about this," she said. "P-Please."

"Very well." He released her. "I implore you, though, to keep in mind that the necessary paperwork needs to be filed as soon as possible."

_Only he could make starting a relationship sound clinical._

* * *

><p>AN: it's still all in character i believe. it's been forever since i updated this and it is a lot shorter than my previous ones...i hope it's been worth the wait! **review please.**


	10. There For Her

A/N: aha! the length of my chapters have increased! :D

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><p>Leonard McCoy had learned to be a patient man. As a doctor, you had to be patient. Now, the things that tended to test his patience were when he ran out of alcohol on a predetermined 'drink night', Kirk's constant antics, people not answering his goddamn questions, and really anything that the green-blooded hobgoblin did.<p>

The last two were currently combined as Celyn trembled in front of him, one hand at her mouth, and all she would say was that she and Spock had kissed.

After the initial shock—he might have even blacked out for a point—he had tried to pry from her the details of said action, including how it happened, when it happened, and who had instigated it. Celyn, however, was panicking to herself.

Her hand fluttered, then settled back at her mouth. "I don't even know how it happened, Leonard. I just…stopped thinking and…"

She shut her eyes against what he was sure were tears. "He said it wasn't a rejection, but…" She took in a shuddering breath. "I don't know what to do. And then he…he actually mentioned the _paperwork_—"

"Paperwork?" McCoy repeated. "What paperwork?"

"The paperwork that Starfleet would need if…" She blushed. "If he and I decided to pursue a relationship."

For a solid minute, McCoy looked like a floundering fish. "Would you…want to pursue a relationship with him?"

"I…" Her face was a bright scarlet. "I…"

The door to Leonard's office within the sickbay opened, and Nurse Chapel poked her head in. Nurse Chapel and Celyn had been on slightly better terms, though the poor girl didn't understand why. McCoy assumed it was because Chapel no longer felt that the girl was trying for his affections, as Chapel hadn't lectured him on it in quite a while, and the fact that Celyn was willing to die to save him and the others during that parasite incident probably helped to smooth things over as well.

"Mercy, do you have a minute?" asked Chapel. "The captain wants to speak with you."

"Oh." Celyn smoothed the front of her uniform. "Sure, sure."

"We'll talk later," said McCoy, giving her a meaningful look.

* * *

><p>"Captain, you wanted to see me?" Celyn fidgeted slightly. She'd never been in his quarters before, and for some odd reason she wondered if she was in trouble. Had he heard of her and Spock's…situation? Was he going to scold her? Give her a lecture on the irrationality of inter-ship romances?<p>

"Mercy!"

Kirk did something then that stunned her completely. He laughed boisterously and then hugged her. "Mercy, I have the greatest news. Why didn't you tell me you had a sister?"

"Uh, wha—"

"Never mind that now, Mercy. I just finished speaking to Admiral Pike. You'll never guess. They've found your sister!"

"They…what?" Celyn pulled back from the captain to look at his face. Was this a joke?

"Your sister? Elysia, isn't it? The Federation's found her! Pike has been searching for a little while now, and—"

"They've found…" Celyn felt tears going to her eyes.

"He just gave me the coordinates. We can leave now!"

"But why would you…" _Why would you do this for me?_

"Our only mission is to explore the universe. The coordinates are off the beaten path, so technically we're still exploring." Kirk grinned. "Plus I've never been one to follow orders to the letter…besides," he shrugged, still with that wide, blinding smile, "you're a friend."

Her hand flew to her mouth, overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. "Captain, I—"

"No need to thank me!" said Kirk. "We're friends, Mercy, and I'm your captain. Just be happy."

Celyn suddenly leaped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She thanked him anyway, and then said into his neck, "I am happy. So happy. Captain, you don't know how much this means—"

She was interrupted by the whooshing sound of an opening door and someone clearing their throat. Celyn pulled away again, a brilliant smile lighting her face—God, how long had it been since she's smiled like this—and was greeted by Spock's stern, emotionless gaze.

No, not emotionless. He looked almost…angry.

"Mr. Spock!" called Kirk exuberantly. "Celyn here has the most wonderful news—"

"Perhaps another time, Captain," Spock interrupted. "If I'm not…interrupting, I have something important to discuss with you. Perhaps I should…" His gaze never left Celyn's. _He's definitely angry. Why? _"…come back another time."

He turned on his heel and left without another word. Celyn opened and closed her mouth. "Captain…"

"Oh, he's probably just in one of his moods." Kirk waved it away. "Don't take it personally."

_But…_ But she did take it personally, because she had a sneaking suspicion that it was about her.

* * *

><p>Which would explain why she now stood outside of Spock's quarters, feeling all kinds of awkward, waiting for him to open the door and let her in.<p>

"I have no desire to speak with you right now, Lieutenant," he said once the door slid open.

She winced immediately at his use of her title. _I thought we'd moved past that? _"Spock, please…What have I done?"

"Nothing, Lieutenant."

"Please…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't lie to me. Why are you…" _Why are you treating me like this?_

"If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant, I'm very busy."

Spock moved to close the door, Celyn's eyes shining with hurt, but she pushed him back and stepped into his quarters. "No. Tell me what I've done, Spock, please."

"Perhaps, before you get offended, you should think more carefully before you act," he snapped at her. The comment and his tone were reminiscent of the very first comment he'd made to her, and she recoiled.

"What's changed?" Celyn demanded suddenly. "What changed between now and what you said to me just a few hours ago—"

"I realized the stupidity of my own words. You were not honest with me about your feelings for the captain."

"You saw my thoughts, Spock!"

"I also saw you with the captain."

"Y-You…" She gaped at him, heart pounding. "You're being irrational!" _Never thought I'd ever say that to him…_

"Celyn…" He looked about to turn away from her, sounding reserved, and suddenly she felt like she was losing him before he'd even been hers. _I really care about him_. She lunged forward awkwardly and grabbed his hand.

"Please, Spock, d-don't pull away from me now." A tear coursed down her cheek. _Why does he…why does he matter so much to me? When did he start mattering so much? _"I don't know what I'd…"

He pulled away from her grip, much to her dismay, but the contact wasn't lost for long. He grasped her shoulders with both hands, pushing her against the now-closed door. "Why are you so adamant about this when your affections lie elsewhere?"

"Forget the captain, my affections lie with you!" She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she said it, watching his reaction carefully, _terrified _that she had said the wrong thing.

He removed the hand that covered her mouth, placing his hand over hers so that their fingertips touched. "Do you know what this is, Celyn?"

She shook her head weakly, his touch sending fire through her veins. "No."

"This is a Vulcan kiss," he said, his voice suddenly gentle. "I apologize for upsetting you. My…human emotions get the best of me, quite often, when I am in your presence." He rested his forehead against hers, as she stared up at him with wide eyes. This was a completely new side of the man. "It is something I have never experienced."

"You've never…"

"I believe that's what I stated, Celyn." His breath ghosted across her face. He seemed almost amused. _Well that's certainly a switch._

"Not even with…"

"The situation with Uhura was…vastly different."

Celyn's mind began racing, comparing herself to Uhura. She wasn't as pretty as Uhura, as daring, as strong, as clever, as intelligent—

"Cease those thoughts immediately," Spock's voice sounded in her ear, and she realized he could still sense her thoughts through their touching hands.

He broadcasted his thoughts to her again, reminding her of the mind meld, the emotion she had felt from him, and the word that stuck in her mind was _beautiful_.

_I wasn't good enough for the captain, why would I be_—

"Celyn." Spock growled her name. "Cease at once. It is utterly irrational for those to be your thoughts."

Even as he said that, another thought occurred to her. "Spock," she asked slowly. "What does T'hy'la mean?"

He pulled back from her slightly. "Where did you hear that word?"

"N-Nowhere." Celyn averted her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I have to head to the bridge, my shift starts soon." She turned away, but Spock suddenly cupped her cheek.

"I worry, Celyn, that you found our first…Terran kiss, as it were, unsatisfactory."

"It was rushed," she said quickly, "I just wasn't sure if you'd push me away—"

"I assure you, in that instant I was not thinking of pushing you away." His lips pressed to hers, and she whimpered as her limbs turned to jelly. His firm grip on her shoulders kept her from falling, and she clutched at the fabric of his uniform with a sense of desperation and elation. "Go," he said, pulling back from her even as she followed. "You said your shift begins soon."

"Spock." His name was an exhale. "The captain, what the captain was talking to me about—"

"Yes?"

"They've found Elysia, Spock." The smile on Celyn's face was wider than she thought she'd ever smiled in her life. "Captain Kirk is taking me to my sister."

She would find Elysia. Jim Kirk had called her a friend. Spock had kissed her. Nothing would be wrong again.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Elysia,<em>

_I'll be seeing you soon. Captain Kirk, the wonderful man that he is, is taking me to see you. The Federation has found you, sooner than I thought possible. This might be the last entry before I speak to you, face to face._

_I don't think I've ever been quite so ecstatic._

_I have so much more to tell you than I can ever fit in a page._

_I'm not sure if I know what it means to love a man. I was sure I loved the captain. Recently, however, I have been made aware that my true feelings, the core of my heart, lies with another man…_

_Is it love when I constantly think of him? Is it love when the thought of losing him makes it hard to breathe?_

_I don't know what love it, sister, but perhaps he can teach me._

_Ironically, Commander Spock is half-Vulcan, Elysia. Doesn't that just seem silly after what I've told you?_

Celyn set her pen down with a smile, halfway through her entry. She was rambling she knew, but it was hard to focus with Spock sitting in the corner playing his lute, the music drifting into her joy-fogged mind. He stopped playing and stood, allowing his fingers to lightly drag along her wrist.

"Have you obtained the paperwork from Captain Kirk?" he asked.

She looked up and blinked. "I thought you were going to get that."

"I was under the impression your mind was not made up on the subject." If Vulcans could look happy without compromising their emotional control, she was sure their faces would look like his right now. "Does this mean you are in agreement?"

"Can you…" She blushed, clearing her throat. "Can you ask me to be in a relationship the way a human would?"

"Does the act of asking mean something?"

"Yes."

She expected more of an argument, or at least more questions, but he simply nodded. "What is your middle name?"

"R-Renata, why—"

"If I am to do this, it will be done properly for you." He tilted her head up to look at him. His brown eyes were softer, the expression she ate up like a starving woman. "Celyn Renata Mercy, if it pleases you—"

The door suddenly whooshed open, and Celyn heard the booming shout of her captain cutting through Spock's soothing, quiet voice: "Mercy! We've arrived at the planet, the message from Pike said Elysia's on an agricultural settlement—" Jim Kirk froze in the room, staring at the looming figure of Spock touching Celyn in a manner much more tender than Kirk had seen. It was reminiscent of the way he'd touched Uhura, but… "I can personally attest that she won't break, Mr. Spock. Now, I'll inquire about this later, but first off…" He beamed at Celyn. "You have a family reunion to attend, don't you, Mercy?"

* * *

><p>The little village was just so <em>cute<em>. The elder, a small-framed old woman, had only to hear Celyn's name and instantly launched into stories of Elysia's arrival on the colonized planet.

"Her adopted father was a doctor here. He knew he'd been assigned to this colony, his wife had just died, and she had been unable to have children. He adopted her shortly after you were separated. She talked of you often for the first few years. After that her memories became a bit muddled." The elder woman chuckled, her whole body moving. "A sweet little thing, Elysia. She has a son in town, Maverick. He should be about a year old now."

With McCoy on her right, Jim on her left, and Spock behind her, Celyn was practically bouncing. "May I see her now? Where is she now?"

"She now resides on the other side of the hill, just past the temple, but—"

"Thank you," Celyn interrupted, a smile tearing at her features. "If you don't mind, I—"

Kirk laughed at her eagerness. "Go ahead, Mercy, go."

She left the elder's home at a run, Spock's long legged stride just barely keeping up with her after a quick, "We shouldn't let her go alone," from McCoy.

_Just past the temple, my sister's house—_

When Spock caught up after she turned a corner, however, he found the young woman had sunk to her knees. "Celyn?"

Celyn's eyes had glossed over as she stared straight ahead at the simple rectangular headstone.

McCoy and Kirk weren't far behind. Kirk frowned at Celyn's back, but McCoy knew the signs of her breakdown almost immediately. He rushed forward, pushing past a frozen Spock, and wrapped her in a hug. Only after this motion did their eyes also register the grave.

"Oh God, Celyn," murmured McCoy into her hair. "I'm sorry."

That broke the spell—and broke Celyn. She collapsed into a sobbing heap, clutching at McCoy. "Leonard, Leonard, it's not fair, it's not fair—"

"I know, kid, I know. Let it out."

She did. She cried and sobbed and screamed until, limp and spent, she allowed the three men to take her to a local inn. McCoy was intending on allowing her to sleep. When they realized there was a tavern on the first floor of the inn, Kirk made a joke about having a drink. To McCoy's immense surprise, she agreed.

* * *

><p>"We can stay here as long as you want," said Kirk. "I told the crew that we're checking up on a Federation colony.<p>

Celyn only nodded and downed another shot glass of what McCoy was calling "closest thing to Scotch not on Earth". He told her that first thing tomorrow, they'd go back and talk with that elderly woman again. Again, his only response was a nod. Kirk sighed as Leonard led a drunk and freshly teary-eyed Celyn up to her room.

"I figured that would be your job now," said Kirk, nodding in her direction.

"I don't understand your meaning, Captain," the other man said gruffly.

"I mean, since you and Mercy are a thing now—"

"Dr. McCoy has known her longer…" The half-Vulcan shifted a little in his seat. "I admit, I was unsure of what to do…"

"She just found out her sister is dead. Do exactly what Bones did: comfort her."

Spock set up the stairs soon after that, having not had a drink to start with anyway. Leonard stopped him outside the rooms they had rented—there were two—with a steady look. "She's been asking for you. I'd planned to stay with her, let you and Jim share the other room, but…" He took a step closer to the other man. "If you do anything inappropriate to her, there'll be hell to pay."

"Understood, Doctor."

"I hope you do." Leonard didn't look too happy at all. "For her sake and for yours."

Spock entered the small room slowly, peering around in the dark for Celyn.

"Spock?" she called, rolling over in the bed. Aside from slightly slurred speech, she sounded lucid.

"You were asking for me, Celyn?" He closed the door behind him.

"Come here." She held out her arms, and even with the lack of light, he could see it. "Please?"

Her voice was thick from crying, and as he stepped closer, he said, "I'm not sure what good I can do for you, Celyn."

"Just…" Her words caught. "Just hold me, Spock, like Leonard did, please…"

He hesitated before placing a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling, and at his touch, she grabbed for his hand. "Please, please…"

"Celyn…I fear I cannot."

"Why?" she sobbed. "I need you. Please, please I…"

But he was already gone. He retrieved the doctor, who glared at him fiercely and grumbled, "'course, can never leave anything up to you damn hobgoblin, I oughta have Jim send you back to the damn ship…" before proceeding to head into her room and soothe the distraught young woman. Spock headed prematurely into the room he would share with the captain now, decided that perhaps it was best if he meditated.

* * *

><p>When Jim came into the room and found his first officer sitting on the floor with a concentrated expression, still barely buzzed, he sighed again. "What'd she want you to do?"<p>

Spock hesitated, opening one eye. "I believe the terminology she used was 'hold me'."

"And you couldn't do it?"

"No. I find myself unable to…be that close to her."

"Is it uncomfortable for you?"

"No."

"Then…"

"I begin to think of things unfit for a man in my position."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Kirk's mouth. "You want to sleep with her."

"Captain—" Spock sighed. "I was hoping that meditation would cure me of these thoughts. I cannot comfort her until they go away. I worry she will resent me for my shortcoming."

Kirk shrugged. "You'll have to deal with it in the morning. You may just have to suck it up. Her sister's dead, and tomorrow we have to ask about her nephew, what was his name, Maverick. It's going to be hard for her. You need to be there, or whatever I saw between you two in her quarters will never happen again."

For once, Spock would admit that his captain was speaking extremely rationally. This was a day to mark in his calendar.

* * *

><p>AN: so Spock and Celyn are kindof a thing, but really, who would expect Spock to NOT be awkward in a relationship? and if you've noticed, they're not official yet...poor Celyn and Elysia :(


	11. Always Something

A/N: next chapter uuuuup! :D

* * *

><p>Now, without the haze of excitement over Celyn's vision—and with her hangover cleverly taken care of with a little drop of the serum she'd given Jim a while back, which he actually carried in his pocket, of all places—the village was clearer. It was a small community, mainly farmers, with a little cluster of buildings at its center. There was the temple, with its small graveyard just beyond, along with a general store, a few scattered shops, and the elder's house. They were in the process of building a schoolhouse, but most if not all of the people of the community lived on surrounding farms. There were thousands of settlements like these, Kirk said, dotting the planet. Celyn nodded despondently in response.<p>

"Why didn't you tell us that Elysia had passed away, Elder?" McCoy asked quietly. His grip around Celyn's shoulders kept her from swaying. Spock noticed with a small growl of possessiveness and jealousy despite himself. However, as he wasn't confident that he could step up to comfort her himself—even just the thought of being able to slip his arm around her waist, to put his hands on her curving hips, drew forth another string of thoughts that were unacceptable, especially with her current state—he remained silent.

"We do not like to speak ill of our dead." The old woman gave Celyn a sad, sympathetic smile. "I tried to warn you, my dear, but how does one crush the hopes of someone so young and vibrant? I didn't know how to tell you."

"What about Maverick? And his father?"

Celyn was silent. McCoy knew, though, he knew what she would want to know.

"Maverick's father died of sickness just a few days after he was born. It took Elysia not a month afterwards.

"So he's all alone?" Celyn's words, when finally spoken, were soft and weak.

"He's being cared for, but you are his immediate family, dear. If you would like to take him with you—"

Celyn bit her lip harshly against the tears. "A starship is no place for a child…"

"Mercy," Kirk began to press, "he's your sister's child."

"If he's happy here…"

"He's young," McCoy assured her. "He won't even remember. If that's what's keeping you, don't let it be a concern."

"I…I can't…."

"Of course you shall have time to think about it!" said the old woman with a smile. "Stay as long as you like. Young Maverick is currently at the temple under the care of our High Priest, if you would like to see him."

"I…" _It's all so much._

McCoy led her out of the elder's house with a sturdy hand on her lower back. Her first instinct upon hearing that Maverick had no living family was to jump up and scream, _I'll take him! I want him with me!_

That was too unrealistic. The child didn't know her. She and her sister had been apart for years…the only good news that had come out of this so far was that she had yet to hear anyone say that Elysia resented her.

_You were always the better sister,_ Celyn thought fondly. _God, I'm so ashamed…_

"There is no need to be ashamed, Lieutenant Mercy," came a distinct Vulcan voice, as casual as if chatting about the gloomy weather. She flinched on instinct as he said her title, but reasoned it was probably because he wanted to maintain a professional front around other people…"If you wish to adopt your nephew, the captain has already stated he will assist you."

She stopped dead in her tracks, the heel of McCoy's hand momentarily digging into her spine before he realized she wasn't moving. Her eyes, which had been glossy and unfocused ever since she saw Elysia's headstone, went wide. "Leonard, did I say something out loud?"

McCoy frowned slightly. "No, kid, you haven't said anything in a while. Why?"

"Why did you say that to me, Spock?" she whispered, slight panic lacing her words.

"I don't follow."

They had all stopped now, McCoy and Kirk both swiveling their heads back and forth between the two others. Celyn was still speaking with her back to Spock, hands shaking ever so slightly, almost afraid to turn around and look at him.

"Why did you say that? If I didn't speak out loud, how did you know what I was thinking?"

Spock hesitated before answering her. "I believe I warned you that you would have to give your mind wholly to me."

"I thought that was temporary."

"During mind melds there can occasionally be memory transference, and after repeated melds with the same person, a permanent, if weak, psychic link can be created—"

"Permanent." Her voice was hollow, a tone that made McCoy impulsively wince and think, _Maybe I should beam up to the ship for some more anti-depressants…up her dose a little…_ "You never warned me about that, Spock."

Kirk, who had been gawking at the pair, suddenly stepped in. "Can someone please fill me in on what's going on? Mercy, what are you talking about?"

Instead of answering him, Celyn—who had been still has a statue—faltered with her words and turned her head. "I…I-I can't handle this. It's too much, Spock, I'm not ready for something like this."

She walked away with a hand over her mouth, McCoy following after her with the expression of a concerned father, and Kirk whirled on his first officer and said, "_Spock_."

"She is upset because a psychic channel has been established linking her thoughts to mine," he said slowly, watching her back as she retreated. "She did not allow me to explain that the channel is so weak that only her strongest thought was shown to me. I have only seen the one."

Kirk blinked at his XO. The golden-haired human knew exactly what Spock melding with her entailed, and he let out a heavy breath. "Spock. You're more serious about her than you let on. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't often converse on my personal life, Jim. I prefer it that way."

"She didn't say…"

"She is not aware either."

"How can she not be?"

"I was under the impression that my affections and intentions were obvious. The melds have informed me this was not the case." Spock stood stiffly, posture rigid and face expressionless. "It also appears I am still unable to be near her without experiencing impure thoughts and impulses that I am disinclined to act upon."

Kirk nodded. "Just give her time. This is a lot to take in, with her sister and everything. Things will calm down soon."

* * *

><p>Maverick was small, smaller than Celyn thought he'd be, with blonde hair and large blue-green eyes. Celyn held him, crying and smiling, with McCoy hanging just in the background.<p>

"He looks like you," said the High Priest gently, probably unnerved at the fact that Celyn had not said anything. "You and your sister were very similar."

She assumed he meant appearance. It was true that both Elysia and herself had blonde hair, but Elysia's eyes had been more green than blue, and her hair had been a warmer shade of blonde. In the baby's face…It was quite obviously Elysia's child. Even now, Celyn could see Elysia's face in the shape of Maverick's eyes, his small mouth. The nose was foreign, probably from the father, but right now, he was Elysia.

"He belongs with his family," urged the High Priest, still in that gentle manner, but when Elysia left after shooting him a grateful smile and promising to return the next day, she still felt unsure.

As she left the temple, Kirk approached her, smiling. "Hey," he said, hands in his pockets. "How was the visit?"

"Good." Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before repeating herself. "Where's Leonard?"

"Bones had to take Spock back to the ship's infirmary." He caught the flash of panic and worry that swept over her face. "Don't worry, he's alright. Just feeling a little…not himself lately."

There was silence as he escorted her back to the inn. "Would you want to stay on the ship?"

She wrung her hands together. "Captain, can I…ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Should I…Would I…"

Kirk gave her a sideways glance, a small smile on his face. He could already assume what she was going to ask. "I'm sure you'd be a great mother, Mercy."

She jumped, her face going red, and she dropped her gaze. "I…I don't know the first thing about raising a child."

"Who does?" Kirk shrugged. "It's a learning experience, Mercy. You'll have plenty of help from Bones, I'm sure. He has a daughter." They had nearly reached the inn.

"May I beam aboard the ship, sir, and…" _See Spock. I need him right now…_

Kirk put his hand on her shoulder and led her into the inn room. "He wouldn't want you to see him like this." He smiled again. "How about I get Bones after he's done with Spock, and we'll open that bottle of alien liquor you bought me, eh?"

_He wouldn't want you to see him like this. _Celyn's heart dropped, but she pulled her lips into a smile. "Alright. Thank you, Captain."

"My pleasure, Mercy." Kirk gave her shoulder a squeeze. _Girl's had it rough. If only Spock would explain to her…Oh well. It's completely impossible to control what that Vulcan does. A shame. They could really be a cute couple._

* * *

><p>Spock struggled to regulate his breathing. He wasn't calm enough to meditate, but tried nevertheless. If he didn't regain some form of control, he would lose himself.<p>

"What'd you drag me all the way up here to talk about, Spock?" McCoy grumbled.

Spock's hands clenched and unclenched on the edge of the cot he sat on. "You are familiar, I assume, Doctor, with Vulcan physiology?"

McCoy sighed, giving Spock a once-over. "Yes, I'm familiar. For medical purposes. Is something wrong?"

"You are then familiar that every seven years of an adult male Vulcan's life, they go through Pon Farr—"

"Yes, yes, what does that have to do—"

"I am afraid, Doctor, that I am in the beginning phases of my own Pon Farr." He was stiff, a slight sweat on his brow, and he licked his lips uncharacteristically. "I must take a mate soon, or suffer from the blood fever."

McCoy blinked slowly, stupefied. "Blood fever?"

"Should I suffer from _plak tow_, I would die."

The older man seemed utterly uncomfortable with what Spock was saying. "Do we, er, have time to return to New Vulcan?"

"Unfortunately no. By the time we reached it, I would have already succumbed to _plak tow_."

"There's really nothing I can do for you except try to stall the process with medication…"

"I would appreciate that, Doctor McCoy." Spock locked his jaw and eyed the doctor seriously. "Thank you."

McCoy mumbled something incoherent, searching his drawers for the right medication. _Damned hobgoblin…always something with you, isn't it?_

* * *

><p>Celyn knew she shouldn't have disobeyed Kirk's advice. She should be in her room in the inn where he had left her, resting up and preparing for the night, when her captain had promised to return and bring Sulu and McCoy to join her for a night of drinking in her sister's honor.<p>

She knew she shouldn't be here, sneaking around the halls of the _Enterprise_, trying to see a man who she wasn't even sure would want to see her. She was anyway.

"Spock?"

The man was alone in the sickbay, in meditation form on one of the cots. Celyn's cheeks heated up and she turned to the just-closed door. _I should just leave…_

"Celyn."

She froze. His body heat leeched into her clothes from behind as he realized he was _right there_. The way he spoke her voice was lower, more gravelly than he'd ever said it before. His heat was feverish. She turned back to him, concern lacing her features. She reached up to touch his face. "Spock, what's wrong?"

"I…must meditate. Can't…can't let you…"

She stared at him. _What? _He wasn't even speaking coherently! "Spock—"

"Leave," he groaned. Her heartbeat stuttered at his tone. "Leave now, before…"

"Before what?"

He was evidently through talking as his too-warm body shoved her roughly against the wall and claimed her mouth with a force that he had never before used on her. His hands were against the wall, on either side of her face, and his body molded to hers, on the verge of crushing her. "I need you," he murmured into her ear.

"Spock!"

At her shocked tone of voice, the Vulcan threw himself off of her. He stood now at the other end of the room, panting and gasping, his face covered with his hands. Celyn's legs gave out, and she slowly slid down the wall to the floor. He stared at her, his mask temporarily dismantled. She was the picture of debauchery—lips swollen from his kisses, chest nearly exposed where he had practically torn apart her shirt—except for the panicked look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Celyn, I apologize _sincerely_—"

"Spock, what…"

"I am…sick, Celyn. Please excuse my actions, I did not mean…I tried to…I must meditate, I must get more medicine, I must control—"

"What's wrong, is it something I can help with?" she asked immediately, scrambling to her feet.

_Celyn, I don't deserve you_. "I've just attacked you, and you…still hold concern for what you can do for me?" His voice was oddly strained. "Celyn…I am under the influence of a condition all Vulcans must endure. I don't wish to tell you. You will make a choice not truly based on your feelings, and that's not what I would wish for—" He groaned again, holding his head. "My control is slipping. Leave now, Celyn. Send Doctor McCoy."

Celyn took one last look at Spock, but when a strangely dangerous look came into his eyes, she bolted from the room.

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><p>AN: Spock's Pon Farr is progressing faster than he anticipated. mwahaha.

and poor Celyn has no idea what's happening...all she wants is to help :(


	12. Before It's Necessary

A/N: a bit fast-paced but that is how i intended it...sorry it took so long to get out.

* * *

><p>Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to stop. She cleared her throat, patted cold water on her face to calm the heat in her cheeks, and inhaled slowly. <em>One…Two…Three…<em>

"Leonard, can I ask you something?"

Leonard, sitting on the couch of the inn room they were sharing—he slept on the couch, though she swore up and down that she would let him have the bed this night—looked up at her and wiped his palms on his uniform pants. "Sure, kid, shoot."

"Spock has been teaching me about Vulcan culture and physiology." She sat next to Leonard, feeling her face grow hot again and stemming her panic as she tried to push the heat away. "There are some things he hasn't told me yet, and I'm beginning to worry I may never learn."

He eyed her warily, and for a second she thought he had already seen through her paper-thin excuse of a ruse.

"For example, he explained that some Vulcan illnesses could be controlled through meditation and medicine but that some cures were only found on the Vulcan home world." _Slow, steady breaths_. "He wouldn't go further into detail though. And you know how he is, Leonard…Vulcan decorum and all that. I'm afraid I might never know." She placed her hands on her thighs as she seated herself on the other side of the couch, gripping the fabric of her own uniform in order to stave off the trembling.

"You want me to give you the low-down?" He raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face. "It's really important to you that you understand him, isn't it?"

Now she was blushing full force, unable to exert any control, and she nodded mutely. He chuckled slightly at her discomfort and patted her leg. "Alright, Celyn. What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," she said, heart pounding. "Just go through all the basic illnesses and rituals and things. The private matters he won't talk about."

"I don't know much about the rituals behind it, but there are a few illnesses I've had to become knowledgeable of…"

* * *

><p>Celyn's heart had moved from beating fast to just beating thunderous, thudding so loudly in her chest she was sure Leonard could hear it. He was on a roll, enveloped in the throw of his lecture, and as such he hadn't noticed her reaction when he let slip information about Pon Farr, a Vulcan mating ritual that when unfulfilled led to a serious and even fatal illness. Apparently, the symptoms were caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain that occurred every seven years, and while medicine and meditation could stall the process—as she had gathered by her exchange with Spock in the sick bay—a Vulcan would eventually die from blood fever if the mating process was not completed.<p>

Long story short: Spock needed to have sex or he would die.

That's what he had meant when he'd said "you will make a choice not truly based on your feelings" when she had asked what she could do for him.

Leonard hadn't even seen that she was affected by his albeit brief explanation. She waited until he had finished, thanked him, and hurried out of the room with the feeble excuse of going to see her nephew again.

* * *

><p><em>Think, Celyn, think<em>. She paced back and forth across the length of the inn room, waiting. _This is a half-ass plan. This is a terrible plan. This isn't going to work._

Just then, there was a pounding on her door and she jumped nearly a foot in the air. _Calm down. They'll know something's up unless you calm down._

She inhaled deeply and put her hand on the doorknob, plastering a smile on her face before turning the knob and allowing the door to fly open.

"Hey, guys," she said, interrupting a boisterous joke from her captain. "C'mon in."

"Still can't believe conservative little Mercy is holding a drinking party!" Kirk was grinning from ear to ear at the idea of the drinking. _It was your idea, Captain. _He held aloft the bottle of bright pink liquor that Celyn had bought him previously. Sulu and Scotty were trailing behind him.

McCoy shuffled in last, giving Celyn a grouchy glance. "I think you're just deflecting, kid. This isn't healthy."

Celyn tightened her smile a little. "It won't hurt anything. Can't you just let me have some fun?"

He stared her down for a solid few minutes. "Alright, Celyn. Alright."

Kirk poured out the pink liquid into shot glasses borrowed from the tavern below their rooms, taking care not to splash any on the table. "Bottoms up, everyone." He lifted his glass. "To Elysia."

Celyn felt her eyes well up with grateful tears as Sulu and McCoy lifted their own shots and repeated after Kirk. Scotty nudged his toward the air, a bit uncomfortable, but Celyn appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

_To you, sister. _Celyn downed her own shot. The effect was instantaneous. Warmth followed the liquid, spreading down her throat and up from her stomach to her chest. She coughed a little at the burn from the alcohol, but the warm tingling sensation was not altogether unwelcome. She felt her muscles begin to relax, her anxiety at her plan begin to fade, and she followed it with only one more shot before settling back into her chair and observing.

* * *

><p>The alien liquor was apparently quite potent. Sulu was out after three shots, Scotty out after five, and both Kirk and McCoy—experienced drinkers in their own right—had to stop before reaching eight. Sulu was slurring, Scotty was passed out on the inn room's small futon, and a surprisingly sober Celyn had McCoy's arm slung over her shoulders.<p>

"Captain, can you…" She looked over her shoulder, intending to ask Kirk for his assistance getting McCoy to the next room. Her captain, however, was snoring loudly, sprawled on the floor. She sighed. _Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew…_ She managed to struggle the half-conscious McCoy next door, but as for the others… _I need help._

"Chekov?" she asked, speaking into her communicator.

"Lieutenant!" he answered after a slight pause. "What can I do for you?"

"We were having a bit of a party. They went a little overboard…well they're very drunk. I was hoping you could come down and help me look after them…?"

"You sound very tired, Lieutenant. 'ave you been sleeping well?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "Why don't you beam up to ze ship? I will come down and watch over zem for you."

"Really? Chekov, you don't have to—" _Shut up, he's offering, don't ruin this._

"It is no problem, Lieutenant." Communications were ceased, and Celyn realized that despite the alcohol still buzzing in her system, she was incredibly nervous.

With her friends safely tended to by the young Russian, she opened the door of her quarters, wringing her hands incessantly. It was getting late; there was no more time to stall and no more time to second guess. It was now or never.

She pulled the small trunk out from the little closet. In the trunk, folded neatly, lay the only item of clothing she owned that wasn't some form of regulation Starfleet attire. She hadn't worn it since the day she donned her uniform at the Academy. _Here's hoping it still fits…_

* * *

><p>Her hands were shaking as she wrapped her knuckles lightly on Spock's door. It didn't open. <em>Maybe he's asleep? <em>She tried a little louder.

"Please leave me be," came a voice on the other side of the door.

"Spock?" Celyn let her hand hover over the door. "It's me. Let me in. Please?"

There was a long bout of silence. "Celyn, I cannot."

"Spock, please. I just want to help you."

His firm tone sounded forced. "It is for your own safety."

_I didn't want to have to do this, Spock._ Celyn reached over, punching in the override code for his door with a wry smile. _Thank you drunken James Kirk…_

Spock was sitting in the dark on the floor of his quarters, shirtless and coated in a sheen of sweat. He sprung to his feet, breathing oddly labored, at the sight of her. "Celyn," he growled. "Get out. It's not…safe."

"Spock, I know what's wrong." She lifted her shaking fingers to her top. The Earth outfit was a powder blue button down shirt and cutoff jean shorts. She had gotten the first two buttons undone when he reached out and grabbed her hand. His skin was feverishly hot, burning to the touch.

"Celyn, what do you—" He groaned suddenly, tearing himself away from her.

"Spock," she said, licking her dry lips. "L-Leonard told me about Pon Farr. That's what this is, isn't it? I can help you, I can—"

"No!" His voice was a roar, the loudest she had ever heard it. "I will not! You do not realize the full extent of—"

"I realize," she whispered. "I know what I'm doing."

"I refuse! Celyn, I _will not _take advantage of—" There was another groan from him. "Leave, I must meditate, I must—"

"You'll die, Spock."

"I will not use you."

"You're only stalling with the medicine and meditation. Eventually you'll have to come to me…and right now, I'm offering. Please, Spock…" _Please…if this is what I have to do so that you can live, so be it._

_Besides…it's not like I haven't thought about it…about you…and at least…it's with someone I…_

His brown eyes stared into hers. His body moved of its own accord, stumbling towards her until she was pinned against the wall. His mouth, hot and forceful, ravaged hers. She squeaked in surprise, and when his mouth moved to her neck, she let her hands settle cautiously on his body.

He pushed against her, his hand trailing down to between her legs—She stiffened. Spock threw himself off of her, his voice hoarse as he said, "I can't take you like this, Celyn. This isn't how I wanted it to happen."

"Well I don't want you to die!" She felt tears spring to her eyes.

His expression was forcibly stoic, but she could tell the mask was slipping. "You're scared of me."

"I'm more scared of losing you. Please, Spock." Celyn began again to unbutton her shirt. By the time the shirt had dropped from her body, he was in front of her again.

"I won't be able to stop, Celyn." There was shame and disgust in his voice. "Even if you want me to."

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled, and then smashed their lips together. He lifted her in his arms, Vulcan strength making it easy for him, and practically threw her onto the bed. He lowered himself on top of her and whispered near her ear, "I will try to…"

"I know," she said.

It was over in an hour. _An hour_. Her whole body felt sore, drained, and she had to ridiculous urge to burst into tears, but…The man asleep beside her was alive and wouldn't suffer the same affliction again for seven years. She watched his sleeping form. The way his chest rose and fell, the lines of his features…It wasn't her ideal first time…but she had felt something, hadn't she? She had felt something when she thought he was going to die, felt something when he had touched her, when that final moment had come…

_I…I think I love him._

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><p><em><em>A/N: let me know what you think!


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